


Keep Your Silence

by livebynight



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brief Ableism, Choking, Dom/sub, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gun Violence, Knife Violence, Lothbrok Mobsters, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Institutional Abuse, Modern AU, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV First Person, Rough Sex, Spanking, physical violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 92,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livebynight/pseuds/livebynight
Summary: "In that moment, I remember being angry with myself for volunteering to be his tutor… And to this day, I’m not sure if I still am. I’m not sure if I preferred my somewhat sheltered, one-track life before it got mixed up with him, or if it’s better now. Knowing the things I know, the laws they break and the power they have. And ultimately benefiting from it all."After his father's death, Ivar finally returns to University in need of a tutor. Skeptical, and a little wary of the rumors surrounding the Lothbrok Family's notorious connection to the Mob, Lisbet reluctantly accepts the position.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

Somewhere toward the end of my Second year at Uni began with a relatively typical day, starting a little too early with Calculus after having been out way past my bed time at a pub the night prior. A few too many drinks left me in a state that could not have been less interested in the class. Instead, I stared blankly at the chalkboard, chewing on my pen cap and tapping my foot on the leg of my chair; barely even caught the glare I received from the student in front of me.

It was an upper class private school that I attended – no more than five thousand, navy blue uniform clad students in total. Most of us well-off kids resided on campus, including myself. But there were the few  _richer_ rich kids who still lived at home with their families. Got driven to school in a fancy town cab every day.

It was one of them that managed to withdraw my attention from the cloud it’d been loitering in. The person behind me grew tiresome of my tapping and kicked my chair – just as the classroom door was thrown open and hit the wall with a slam. The combination startled me and I nearly choked on my pen as Ivar Lothbrok entered on his crutches.

There was a universal intake of breath as all eyes turned to him, including my own, as he lugged himself over to the Professor’s desk.

Ivar handed the Professor a note – no doubt one explaining his absence – who hardly spared it a second glance; there was no explanation needed as to why he had been absent for the last _month_. We all knew. It was impossible to miss all the reports that circulated through practically every news station on television; it was the most talked about topic for two weeks.

Ragnar Lothbrok – Ivar’s father – had been murdered. He’d been quite the notable figure. For one – he was President of the leading export trading company in the country. For two – though, having been rumors until becoming mostly dispelled by the circumstances of his death, Ragnar had heavy connections to the Mob.

He had been found gunned to death in one of the many ports owned by his company. Incessant speculation by Press everywhere left the means unknown, but just about everyone seemed to be under the suspicion that his death was the result of a debt settlement.

Not a week had passed after his death before certified Mob boss, notoriously known as King Aelle, was also found murdered. And brutally so. His skin had been stripped from his body. The few, more gruesome reports even went so far to say that his corpse had been left to hang over where Ragnar’s own body was found.

I was among the seldom who liked to think the whole thing was a bit dramatic and far-fetched, but even I couldn’t even keep out of the mill. Everyone who gossiped about it since claimed the Lothbrok brothers were responsible for Aelle, Ivar included. Which is why we all stared now, and whispers began circulating the room as he took the only vacant seat, two rows over and one column down from my own. The sound of his crutches echoed in the silent room as he set them on the floor next to him.

He had certainly appeared haggard. Dark circles befell his typically bright, blue eyes, and though he was naturally pale, he seemed ever more so now.

A pair of girls giggled behind me as the Professor began speaking again, evidently pleased to see Ivar return. I admit his looks were favorable… to say the very least. What with the alluring eyes, sculpted jaw, and the soft, chin-length hair. Oftentimes, I caught myself marveling at him while zoning out in class. In fact, in that very moment, watching him sit down, I could feel myself sulk that he looked so miserable – more than he usually did, anyway.

Ivar had never been friendly. Kept mostly to himself unless flanked by his brothers. And even as girls giggled and ogled, he simply ignored them. The only time they seemed to have any effect on him was when a bunch of meathead footballers became jealous, felt emasculated that a disabled guy could steal the attention of their girlfriends.

One tried to confront Ivar, tried insulting his disability. Ivar had swung the blunt end of his crutch at the boy’s head, then proceeded to knock him out with a textbook. There was no disciplinary action afterward, and no one had tried confronting him again since.

Again, I found myself being pulled out of my thoughts as I stared away, until realizing people were staring at _me_. I flinched and straightened my back, looked to the Professor as he cleared his throat at me.

“Sorry, Professor?”

“I was just suggesting,” he started, “That Ivar has missed so much schoolwork, that perhaps someone could assist him as a tutor…?”

As the rest of the class took part in staring at me, I audibly gulped. I was the only legitimate tutor present – with these Richie Rich families, I even made quite the good krone on it. I was also at the top of the class. Ivar had been as well before falling so far behind.

Naturally, I didn’t want to tutor him. Regardless of how skeptical I was over the rumors surrounding his family, I still found them intimidating. All four sons and another from a previous marriage; I’d seen each of them at one point or another. They all were reputable, connected to the Mob or not.

And yet… I took pity on him. I stole another look at him, saw him barely turn his head over his shoulder to look at me with glaring eyes. His father had just been killed… he was talked about enough behind his back… I had a total of nine classes, Ivar was in seven of them.

_Fuck_.

“Y-yes, of course,” I mumbled, already ducking my head to hide from Ivar’s gaze.

“Thank you, Lisbet. We’ll meet after class to discuss assignments,” our Professor declared.

At least Ivar hadn’t seemed anymore thrilled than I was.

 

 

We were set to meet for our first session the next day. I cursed myself the entire half jog-half sprint to the library, being doused by pouring rain. By the time I made it inside, I was soaked save for my blouse and uniform blazer, luckily kept safe beneath my raincoat. It was embarrassing as I came to find Ivar, nestled deep among the bookshelves, looking entirely poised in his navy blue, neatly pressed uniform while he calmly worked from his laptop. Completely void of a single drop of water.

He did a double-take when he spotted me, the sopping mess, panting as I joined him at the table.

Without any sense of grace, I swung my backpack onto the table and flopped into the chair next to him, giving myself a moment to catch my breath.

“Do you… Need a towel?” Ivar asked.

I turned in my seat to glare at him, only to find him eyeing me up and down, a single eyebrow arched on his forehead. His fingers, still settled on his laptop, gripped around the edges to slide it a few millimeters away from me.

“Not all of us are lucky enough to get driven around everywhere, Ivar,” I snapped… then almost instantly regretted it. I clenched my eyes shut, thinking this was probably the worst impression I had ever left on anyone. Ivar probably spent much of his life wishing he got to run around without the aid of his crutches, and here I was, basically rubbing it in his face that he couldn’t.

“Ivar, I’m sorry,” I said, lightening my tone. I was reluctant to meet his eye, but was relieved to see he didn’t appear to give a shit about anything coming out of my mouth. “That was… rude of me.”

Ivar rolled his eyes and set his jaw, turning his attention back to his computer. I started unloading my bag, laptop, books and papers. I’d spent a good portion of the night before typing up a syllabus for him to reference; organized old assignments and notes that he could use to help catch up. It quickly became a thick stack in front of him.

“We can start with Lit?” I suggested. It was generally an easy class and I recalled he had top marks in it, anyway. “Probably the simplest for you to plow through before we get into Phys and Calc.”

He fingered through the pages my work, looking unimpressed. “Is this it?”

I looked at him confused. “Were you expecting more?”

Ivar continued to scan through it all, began to cross reference each section with my syllabus. “In a manner of speaking.”

My eyes narrowed at him, feeling insulted. “I guess I deserved that…”

It was the first time I ever heard him laugh, even though it was a subdued one. Eventually, he looked up at me, and finding my scowl, he merely smiled. It appeared genuine, eyes lit up as he leaned closer to me, almost like he was anticipating more of a reaction.

In that moment, I remember being angry with myself for volunteering to be his tutor… And to this day, I’m not sure if I still am. I’m not sure if I preferred my somewhat sheltered, one-track life before it got mixed up with him, or if it’s better now. Knowing the things I know, the laws they break and the power they have. And ultimately benefiting from it all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Xx.
> 
> As always, you can find me on Tumblr [here](http://captainpoopweinersoldier.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

After a few more sessions, I found myself and Ivar becoming more compatible. He was finally beginning to listen to my instructions. Seemed to realize I was smarter than he once imagined and actually gave a shit about my input.

I had always known he was intelligent, but seeing it functioning first-hand was altogether different. He could answer equations halfway through solving, his memory was infallible, and he took his concentration as a precious concept. If he ever felt I was distracted in some way, he would scold me, snap at me until I felt that _I_ was the one who had missed a month’s worth of class.

On one occasion, he had an outburst that forced me to accidentally drill my teeth through my lip. I had jumped when he smacked his hand on my side of the table.

“ _What_?” I demanded thickly, then sucked on my lip. I tasted blood.

“Am I interrupting you?” He asked haughtily.

Actually, he was. I’d been thinking of his hair, wishing he’d at least leave it down to better my eye candy since _I wasn’t getting paid for any of this_ …

“We’ve been at this for hours, excuse me if I blanked for a moment.” I said instead.

Ivar scoffed and leaned back in his seat. The sleeves of his blouse had been rolled up to his elbows and I couldn’t help but notice the muscles of his forearms flex as he moved around. I needed to get out of this library…

“I don’t like my time being wasted,” he sneered. He was tapping his thumb on the tabletop as if trying to pressure me into leaving. But I still had an essay to finish and fifteen pages worth of reading to get done. We were stuck with each other.

“Well, I don’t enjoy tolerating insufferable jerks every day either, yet here I am…” I retorted, and swiftly averted my attention back to my computer. It was times like those that infuriated me most – the too often bickering – but as I chanced a glance at him after, I noticed the small smirk playing on his lips. I felt an odd sense of pride then, and mimicked the expression.

It took a measly week and a half for him to catch up with schoolwork, but we continued meeting anyway. I had spent one day without him, tried getting my studies done back in my dorm but I could no longer focus the same way and ended up tossing my books aside. The following day, I’d returned to the library, saw that each table was relatively packed with students save for Ivar’s usual spot in the back corner. He spotted me almost as if he expected I was coming, and we stayed still for a solid moment, staring at each other until I heaved a sigh and went to sit with him.

Every day for weeks, we met in the library or a lab to study. Sometimes in silence, sometimes with _me_ asking _him_ more questions than the other way around. I found myself constantly seeking his approval and I liked to think a part of him came to respect me.

He was amidst proofreading the seven-page-so-far-draft of my History paper when another student moseyed over and tried sitting with us.

“Um… Excuse me?” Ivar inquired, eyes never leaving my computer. “Can’t you see we require no intrusion?”

I looked awkwardly at the poor guy; he appeared to be a First year. You could always tell because uniforms never fit the First years properly. But the rest of the library was mostly filled again and he cocked a brow at Ivar – gestured to the rest of the entire empty table. We had been huddled around one corner of it; Ivar had dragged my chair over to his so he could look at my writing. We’d been positioned so closely, I frankly didn’t even notice the student walk over - was too occupied in the scent of cologne that wafted from Ivar. He wore the perfect amount; nothing overpowering, but just enough that you wanted to lean into his neck and take a deep inhale.

I had to shake myself from the thought of it. Ivar’s voice was better distraction. “This is my _tutor_ ,” he had continued dramatically, finally looking up from the computer screen to glare at him. “Give us some privacy!”

The guy looked at me and I shrugged. I felt bad but for whatever reason Ivar was this adamant, I wasn’t going to argue with him. Ivar only relaxed once he walked away and resumed his position, hunching over slightly in front of me to continue reading. Again, I was basked in his scent. I had to roll my eyes at myself for being so susceptible to it.

But then he was finished, gave it a single nod of approval and slid the laptop back over to me.

“How about tomorrow, you come home with me?” He asked suddenly.

“Huh?” I replied stupidly and a little too loud.

“I said -” he started, then reached out to just barely touch my wrist with the tips of his fingers. “- Tomorrow, you should come home with me. We can do our work there.”

I ogled at him. The Lothbrok household was an Estate so far behind gates that it couldn’t be seen from the street. The prospect of what it must have looked like, both inside and out, was gossiped about almost as much as Ivar himself was, along with his brothers.

“Sure,” I offered, making him smile. Another one to appear genuine, not like the usual condescending ones he divvied out without hesitation. I wouldn’t admit it aloud, but his smiles were getting to me. Ivar had the most perfect, pouty lips, and his eyes always seemed to be hiding a thousand inappropriate thoughts. I was starting to understand why so many of my classmates swooned after him. He was gaining the ability to do the same to me, even if I was still wary of him.

 

 

Ivar picked me up from my dorm the following day – had one of those fancy town cabs drive through the courtyard in front of my building. The cleared area was small, and usually only occupied by students unloading their cars or delivery mobiles from local food joints. The sleek, black town cab was a striking difference, and I could feel multiple pairs of eyes zero in as it came to a stop in front of me as I smoked a cigarette.

The tinted window of the rear seat rolled down and out came Ivar’s head as he came to rest his forearm on the sill.

“Get in,” he called, a cocky grin spread across his face.

Self-conscious as I was, I didn’t need to be told twice. I flicked my cigarette, adjusted my backpack and hustled around the back of the car to join him. As soon as the door was shut, Ivar gave an approving pat on my thigh. I had no idea what to think of it. Met his eyes with uncertainty, instantly hypnotized by the bright, blue shine of them. But he recalled his hand so quickly, I assumed the touch innocent enough. At that point, we had spent enough time with each other that I considered us more than acquaintances. I didn’t shy away from him the way I used to in First year, even though his touch was unnerving.

The Estate did not disappoint. It was enormous and three stories high worth of brick, the broadside nearly covered in unkempt vines that doused the place with a beautifully rustic appearance. It wasn’t a typical perfected upper-class house. Where _those_ people would see imperfection, I saw character.

We spent our session in the dining room and I was still entranced by it all. It was decorated in fine tapestries and mysterious wooden statues. We sat at a table that could have held at least twenty people, with our laptops and books spread out on one end.

An hour in and even Ivar had a different air about him, here in his home. He sat up straighter, yet seemed more relaxed. He had pulled off his navy blazer, and being so accustomed to that, I couldn’t stop myself from raking my eyes over him. Could see how his shoulders filled out his blouse and how muscular his chest appeared. His tie was pulled loose from his neck and only then did I notice how thick and defined it was.

“Do you need help with something?” He questioned.

My trance was immediately broken and I shot up in my chair. _Fuck_. “Sorry?”

Ivar sighed, letting his fingers rest over the keyboard of his laptop. His eyes dragged ever so slowly to look at me – practically _through_ me from the intensity of his gaze. The way he appraised me sent a chill down my spine.

“Don’t tell me all those stupid girls have had an influence on you.”

He said it with such brevity that I had no idea how to respond.

“I see you staring at me,” he pointed out.

He was turning toward me now, elbow perched at the edge of the table just beside my hand. On most days, I liked to think of myself as a confident enough person to be able to handle talking to good looking guys, including when they thought I was making a pass at them. But there was something about Ivar that kept me silent. Frozen in my spot. It was embarrassing – the way my mouth hung open, unable to find a response or excuse, anything that would make him believe I hadn’t been checking him out for the past several minutes.

“This is not the first time either, Lisbet.” I shivered when he said my name. “If there’s something else you’re interested in… besides studying…” He leaned in close, boldly setting his hand on my thigh – unlike how he did on the drive over. This time his fingers coaxed over my knee before settling his fingertips just beneath the hem of my skirt. “You should mention it.”

I audibly gulped, certain my heart had plummeted somewhere deep in my stomach.

It was clear Ivar was playing some sort of game with me. But he was too good looking to play that kind. I felt like he was disappointed that I found him attractive, that my attention span was wasted on objectifying him instead of studying and finishing our work together. He thought I was smarter than that and it made a knot twist in my stomach, left a sour taste in my mouth that I had let him down in some way.

I finally found it in myself to take hold of his wrist and set his hand back on the table. His serious face broke into a grin, and I beamed at him like I would upon receiving a good test score.

For some time after I refocused on my work, Ivar watched me like a hawk. Almost as if waiting for me to slip up and peek at him again through the corner of my eye. I didn’t, even though it was becoming harder and harder not to from the weight of his stare. I was only relieved when it sounded like company had arrived.

It was short lived… As one by one, Ivar’s brothers entered the room. I had known them all already, had seen them around at school at one point or another, even though they were in the years above me. Ubbe, the oldest, was supposed to be the nice one. Hvitserk, I heard, got slapped on his cheek thrice a week because he couldn’t keep his hands from snaking up girls’ skirts. And Sigurd… There wasn’t much that I knew about Sigurd, except that he was in the boys’ choir.

Hvitserk was the first one in the dining room. Dumped his belongings on the table so loudly, I twitched in my seat. “Look who’s brought a _girl_ home!” He exclaimed, making me wince.

He circled the table and ruffled Ivar’s hair, pulling it loose from his bun. Ivar smacked at his hands, scowling. Hvitserk released him to perch on the table, leaning over the top on one hand to peer at me better. He had such beady eyes compared to Ivar and they gave me the creeps. The soft brown hair, I would grant him. It must have been the Lothbrok gene.

“What is her name?”

Ivar was reluctant to introduce me. “Lisbet.” He muttered darkly. Just as Ubbe and Sigurd came in to join us. Ubbe threw his car keys on the table. He had graduated last year, so I wasn’t sure what he was up to now, but it seemed he had picked up his brothers from school. They were still clad in the same navy uniform.

“Shit, I thought you were joking.” Sigurd chastised, hardly containing his laughter. “What did you threaten her with to get her to come home with you, Boneless?”

My jaw dropped just as Ubbe smacked Sigurd over the back of his head.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ubbe scolded, looking furious. “That is no way to behave in front of a guest.” He offered me an apologetic smile as Sigurd scoffed and stalked out of the room. I ignored it, suddenly feeling extremely out place, and spared a look at Ivar.

The last time I had ever heard anyone call Ivar ‘Boneless’ was the boy who had been swiftly knocked out with a text book. Now, he sat with his hands clenched into fists. So tight his knuckles turned white as they trembled. His glare directed downward was so heated, I would not have been surprised if it burned holes right through the table. He looked downright frightening. And I couldn’t imagine how he was restraining himself.

I was driven alone in the cab back to campus. I didn’t mind it – Ivar had a hard time relaxing after that altercation and the tension was thick enough that I’m certain being in the backseat of the car with him would have been more stifled. I took a long look at the Estate as we departed, sure that Ivar would never bring me back.

 

 

Later on, the event loomed in the back of my mind. My roommate, Sofia, had took it upon herself to take me to an upscale club. I gladly accepted the invitation; with non-stop cramming and feeling like my thoughts were too consumed by Ivar as of late, I welcomed the break.

I was the type of person used to dive bars and shitty beer, so imagine my discomfort at shoving myself into a skintight dress and too high heels that Sofia made me wear. But once we arrived, I didn’t feel so overdressed anymore. In fact, the two of us were completely outshined by the types of people that filled the place. Bright bulbs of blue and white lit up the mirrored ceiling and the bar was completely comprised of black light, illuminating each rich patron with a neon glow. The place was so crowded, it took a determined wiggle to get through the sweaty bodies and order cocktails. I did happen to be a particular fan of gin – served straight with little ice and lime.

We spent most of our time out on the floor, dancing round after round. For the moment, I was truly relaxed. Loosened up as the music blared in my ears and the alcohol went straight to my head, giving me a nice buzz.

It wasn’t until I went to get us another round that reality started seeping in again. I had been waiting for the bartender when I let my eyes roam around the club. Inevitably, my eyes were drawn to the VIP lounge. It was an elevated, roped off section where top shelf bottles of liquor were being passed around as haphazardly as water. On one end was a small table of four grumpy looking men. They were glaring at the other side of the lounge and curiously, I followed their gaze, finding the small section completely swarmed with women. In all shapes, sizes and ages – all scantily clad in one way or another as they mercilessly paraded themselves at –

 _Dammit_.

Ubbe was the first to get my attention. It was hard to miss him as he cheerfully bounced from woman to woman, seemingly a shameless flirt as he exuberantly joined in on taking shots and attempting dance moves even though he was terrible at it. I had to stifle my laughter despite myself. Hvitserk was almost just as bad, though he sat atop the couch of their table. If the music hadn’t been so loud, I’m sure I would have heard him cheering, encouraging his older brother. He looked totally different out of his uniform; clad in a brown leather jacket with his hair pulled back in a ponytail.

From my spot at the bar, I could see him throw a wad of cash in the air as they were brought two more large bottles. Hvitserk stood on the couch and took a plentiful swig. Then my eyes sought out Ivar and I could have melted at the sight of him, alcohol in my system be damned. He was sat on the couch with a pint of dark beer in front of him and what could’ve been a lit joint or cigarette in his hand. The ladies were just as enthused in getting his attention as they were Ubbe and Hvitserk’s, and though Ivar wasn’t nearly as reciprocative, I could tell he was enjoying the eyeful all the same. Even at this distance, I could see his eyes darken. His smile was wolfish, with teeth bared as he allowed himself to scour every inch of their bodies as he pleased.

I couldn’t understand it – probably due to the booze - but in the moment, part of me wished he would look at me like that. The inappropriate thoughts he always seemed to have hidden behind those blue orbs didn’t seem so restrained now. I had never thought of Ivar… _that_ way. But seeing him like this, it was impossible not to.

The drinks arrived just in time for me to muffle the tinge of jealousy I was beginning to feel.

“Checking out your _boyfriend_?” Sofia teased, appearing out of nowhere.

I resisted the oncoming scoff while I drank down more gin. At this point, I was bound to be feeling this tomorrow. “Ivar is _not_ my boyfriend.”

“If you say so,” she said with a shrug. She had been calling him my boyfriend for two weeks now. Apparently, her clique of girlfriends had ganged up on her, asking all sorts of intrusive questions like if we were fooling around or if I’d seen the Lothbrok’s commit any crimes. Ridiculous. “Y’know… I’m not much into the bad boys but he is _hot_.”

I couldn’t help but look at him again. It was no help that he let his hair hang loose over his shoulders. He was dressed in a black blazer with a white thermal underneath. ‘Hot’ didn’t do him enough justice. I hadn’t realized we’d been staring so intensely until he spotted us and every notion of a smile slid right off his face.

We both cursed and whipped around; Sofia burst into a fit of giggles. I shook my head and elbowed her. “Not funny!” I scolded, feeling like a teenager again.

“Shit, he’s still looking.” Sofia mumbled behind her glass, _now_ trying to be subtle.

“Then stop staring at him!” I snapped.

“He’s not looking at _me_ , sweetheart,” she countered with a shake to her head. “He is definitely checking you out.”

“ _Stop_.”

“I’m serious! Look!”

I don’t know why I listened, but I did. I slowly peered over my shoulder, but it didn’t make a difference. Ivar was looking right at me.  It was unclear if he was checking me out or not, but there was certainly a hardness to his look with his clenched jaw that was utterly hypnotizing.

He took a drag of whatever he was smoking and I offered a small smile. The smoke streamed out through his nostrils while his brows furrowed. He looked angry. And I finally tore my eyes from him when he looked away to throw back his beer.

I plopped my face into the palm of my hand, ashamed, as Sofia went on like nothing happened.

“I’ve always been curious about that one. You know he slept with Ubbe’s wife a few years back? I mean – she wasn’t his wife then, but whatever.” I cringed, not wanting to hear this. I hadn’t even realized Ubbe was married. “He apparently freaked her out with some kinky shit. She was _traumatized_ according to Jessie.” She said the word ‘traumatized’ as if she didn’t really believe it was all that dramatic. Jessie was one of the girls in Sofia’s clique, one of the more gossipy ones I wasn’t too fond of.

“What did he do?” I found myself asking.

“I don’t know… he like, choked her out or something without asking,” she said nonchalantly. “Like ‘we-don’t-speak-his-name’ used to do to you.”

She meant my ex-boyfriend. And an asshole he certainly had been, but he did ask to do those kinds of things. When we were together, I discovered I was into that and he was the first and only guy I’d ever been open about it with.

Ex-boyfriend aside, I didn’t want to hear about Ivar’s sex life. The thought of it made my stomach twist uncomfortably and the only thing I had to quell my unease at that very moment was more gin. For the rest of the night, I only spared one last glance at him, and much later. He was back to enjoying himself again, all smiles and looking fucked up while yet _another_ woman tried chatting him up. Leaned in close to speak in his ear, putting her perfect breasts on even better display for him.

That had been the first display of the Lothbrok power I had ever seen. I didn’t think much of it, then. Was more focused on the thought that it was probably a bad idea to ever drink alcohol in Ivar’s presence ever again.

 

 

While I slept, I dreamed of Ivar. We lay naked together, limbs tangled and covered in a sheet of sweat. I could feel his lips – could feel his tongue slide between my own. I wrapped my legs around him and whimpered as he thrust into me.

He pivoted to hold himself up with the length of his forearm and suddenly I could barely breathe as his fingers wrapped around my throat. Ivar dragged his tongue along the side of my face, nipped my earlobe, and with what little air I had, I rasped out his name.

Then, I was woken up by my phone ringing. The night had gone late, but I specifically remembered turning off my alarms for class, having no intention of attending. So the blaring ringtone in my ear was infuriating, and I groaned as my hand blindly searched for it before answering.

“Did you have fun last night?” Ivar asked on the other end.

I shot up in bed, then instantly regretted it as my head throbbed with hangover. My words caught in my throat while my heart raced. There was a throbbing between my legs and I clenched my eyes shut, paranoid that he would be able to read my mind through the phone. I groaned again and I could hear Ivar chuckling through the phone, misunderstanding.

Ivar wasn’t big on texting; any time he wanted to reach me he would usually just call. The only texts I ever received from him were when he got annoyed and would simply say ‘ _pick up your phone_ ’.

“Evidently… What’s up?”

“Come outside.”

“ _Huh_?”

“I _said_ come outside.” I could hear the impatience in his voice, and he annunciated his words slowly as if talking to a child.

Still holding the phone to my ear, I jumped out of bed and left the room, startling Sofia who had been lazing on the couch. I went down the hall to the window that overlooked the courtyard and peered out of it. A fancy, black town cab was parked out front. I shook my head as Ivar ordered me to bring my books and ended the call. He was a piece of work, to say the least.

As quickly as I could, I brushed my teeth and washed my face. Tamed my hair but dressed in sweats and a cardigan. I almost fell out of the door as I shoved my shoes on.

The rear window of the car rolled down as I approached, and Ivar poked his head out, looking smug as ever and like the night’s events hadn’t had any effect on him.

“You _definitely_ look like you enjoyed yourself last night,” he remarked. I noticed he was in his uniform, so he had definitely been to class. Something I was sure later he’d boast about while scolding me for skipping.

I feigned surprise. “And to think I was so confused you had girls all over you – you are _quite_ the charmer.” I don’t know why I said that.

Ivar’s smirk turned into a ferocious smile. “Were you jealous?” He seemed genuinely curious and I had no response up my sleeve for that one. Luckily, he was quick to change the subject. Looked beyond me and toward my building. “Your friend is annoying.”

I snorted. “She thinks you’re my boyfriend.” I don’t know why I said that, either.

Ivar _giggled_ and set his elbow on the windowsill. “Well, as your boyfriend, I must say that you look _much_ more appealing outside of your uniform.” My lips parted, even more stunned than I’d been at his previous comment. I twitched when he patted his hand on the door. “Now, get in.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading! Hope ya'll are enjoying this so far! Xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Utmost thank you's and appreciation to everyone that's been so supportive of this!

Turns out I had been wrong in thinking Ivar wouldn’t bring me home with him again. The library had been completely abandoned; every day after class, Ivar would swoop me up with the town cab and I’d ride back to the Estate with him.

“You know I do have a car, right?” I had even asked at one point, unsure of why he continually found it necessary to have me driven around. All it meant was that his driver (Cris, I’d come to learn) would have to drive me back to campus in the evening. “I _can_ actually drive.”

Ivar ignored me, then. Hardly budged an inch as he gazed out through the passenger window.

The difference now was that we kept to his bedroom to study. After that remark from Sigurd, it seemed that Ivar didn’t want to chance another incident like that happening again. It helped that we had our History paper due soon, so I easily accepted the excuse that he didn’t want us being bothered by his brothers. I didn’t mind their lack of intrusion.

I had also been secretly hoping on getting to see inside his bedroom at some point. Often times, I tried to picture what it must look like inside. Whether he had posters of musicians or movies, a dorky comic book collection even. Considering how much time we spent together, I still hardly knew a thing about him outside of what I overheard of him at school. And since our first official conversation I decided that I was to assume all rumors as that. Just rumors.

We tended to mostly communicate with either few sentences at a time or bickering. But even then, it was usually regarding schoolwork – no long-winded, thorough conversations that might’ve been normal for anyone else besides Ivar. Ivar and I just sort of… oddly coexisted with one another. Even with the bickering, over time it had developed into something more of a playful banter. The harsh tone he once took with me was slowly losing its bite.

I knew that I focused better when I was around him. Hell, I’d even started to get a grip on my attraction to him, wanting to avoid another scolding and for him to continue taking me seriously. I was beginning to genuinely enjoy the company of this _giant_ pain in my ass, and looked forward to our study sessions.

For him… I wasn’t sure what he was getting out of this besides this quiet competition we were definitely having when it came to grades. I would think of his family’s so called involvement with the Mob, and how I couldn’t decide if I believed it to be true or not. And if it was, what that would mean for me if we continued spending endless amounts of time together. If I truly believed him to be a part of that, shouldn’t I have been afraid of him?

 

Once he led me to his bedroom, my attention honed in on every detail. Instead of a dorky comic book collection, I found physical and topographical maps tacked into the walls, all of different locations throughout the world. He had a magnificent globe set atop one of the three completely stocked bookcases. Pins stuck out of it in just about every direction.

The room itself was huge and spacious with high ceilings. The walls were painted a calming light blue and each piece of furniture was made of cherry wood, including the king-sized bed.

I aimlessly paced the room, almost forgetting that Ivar was in there with me.

He had his own private bathroom, and though the light was off, I could tell it was filled with white marble. And just outside the door of it was a folded up, high-back wheelchair. I had only ever seen Ivar use crutches in school. Now, I wondered if that was purely out of personal preference.

The work desk opposite his bed was enormous; large enough to sit four people. One end of it was just barely touching the wall, and above it, a monitor nearly just as big was mounted into the plaster.

I set my backpack on the desk and moseyed over to the bay window that had a view of the Estate’s massive backyard. The window seat had cabinets installed and I was curious to find out what else Ivar had tucked away. He was clearly impeccably neat and organized, and nothing seemed out of place save for a meter-long metal trunk on the floor beside his bed.

There was only one single portrait in the room. Hanging horizontally over the headboard of his bed was a pair of ravens illustrated in charcoal. It was framed, but I could see the frayed edges of the canvas, as well as smudged fingerprints. It had definitely been made for him.

I circled around once more until nearly colliding with Ivar.

“Are you quite finished?” He snapped, glaring down at me.

I backed away defensively, shielding my face with a curtain of hair. “ _Sorry_.”

He huffed and looked as if he was going to say something else, but thought better of it and moved to the desk. Turning his back to it, he leaned against the edge to perch and shrugged off his backpack. Then his hands set onto the corner of it and he pivoted smoothly into his chair.

Chewing on my lip, I nervously followed suit, taking the seat opposite him.

“What were you thinking?” Ivar asked softly.

My eyes shot up at him to see his hands paused at the zipper of his backpack. He waited for me to answer, unblinking. Penetrating me with the brightness of his gaze. I realized he actually cared what I thought of his bedroom.

“You’re…” I trailed, unable to settle on a word that I felt appropriately described Ivar. He was an enigma to me. Each time I discovered one thing about him – no matter how miniscule – I was instantly yearning to know more. I’d never met someone who was so peculiar and sparked my curiosity in such a way. “You are very different.”

Ivar didn’t move. Only his brows furrowed and his lips pouted, expressing concern toward my answer.

“I like it.” I added. And probably too quickly. But he visibly relaxed and went on to spread his belongings over the desk. I did the same, and as per usual, we got to work.

 

 

“A fucking B?” Ivar exclaimed. “That’s bull shit!”

He startled me, first by yelling – then as he tore the paper from my hands before I could even object. We were outside during break, standing by the front stoops by the parking lot so we could smoke a cigarette. I shared the news of my grade, only to be pleasantly surprised that Ivar thought it was as outrageous as I did. He was smarter than me, and he went over my paper with comparable obsession to mine before I handed it in.

Our History Professor was an asshole and this wasn’t the first time I thought he graded my work poorly, but the research paper was a huge chunk of my grade. I could take a few bad marks on a homework assignment every now and then, but with less than a month left of the semester, I couldn’t risk fucking up my average.

Ivar – unsurprisingly – received a perfect score. I watched him raise the cigarette to his lips as he started to read the paper for the umpteenth time. I took momentary solace in observing him, watching his lips pucker and his chin jut out as he took a drag off his cigarette. I was so used to being reprimanded for soaking up an eyeful of him that I took advantage of his distraction now. Small tufts of hair loosed from his bun in the soft breeze, tickled the shaved sides of his scalp, and it was impossible not to be keen on it.

It must have been a sign when a student barreled into me, nearly knocking me to the ground as they rushed past.

“Hey!” I shouted at him, becoming more upset at the chance it could have been Ivar instead of me he crashed into.

“Piss off,” he snapped back. Sneered over his shoulder.

Still concentrating on the paper, Ivar flicked his cigarette butt at him. The lit end caught the guy’s ear and he flailed in desperation to remove it from his shirt collar. I hadn’t even bothered to try stifling my laughter.

He whipped around, face beet red, and began to strut over to the pair of us until Ivar finally lifted his head. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face was enough to make the guy stop short, as if remembering himself. And though begrudgingly, he even muttered an apology in my direction before stomping off.

I opened my mouth to compliment Ivar, but he was already refocused on my paper. Turned to the next page. His brows knit together while his eyes danced over my words, and he even scoffed at one of the Professor’s notes. At the moment, I realized I had never been more attracted to him. And for once I was content with that.

“I’ll talk to him,” he muttered as he flipped to the last page.

“Excuse me?”

“The Professor,” he explained, offering a nonchalant shrug. “I’ll talk to him.”

I practically sputtered at him. That wasn’t a _thing_ that just happened. Students couldn’t just convince teachers to give other students better grades. That was like something out of a movie.

“Ivar, you can’t – you don’t have to – I don’t -”

At once he grew impatient with me and rolled his eyes. He thrust the paper back into my hands so he could readjust on his crutches. He shifted the pads under his armpits, wincing slightly as he tried to get more comfortable.

"That?” - He started, jabbing his finger into the red B that covered the header of my paper - “Is bull shit.”

 

 

By the time the next History class rolled around, Ivar’s promise to fix my grade had drifted far enough back in my mind that I’d nearly forgotten it. I was tired – a week of cramming sessions and another research study for my Biology class would do that to a girl. Biology was one of the two classes I didn’t share with Ivar; I didn’t have him to help me with that, making it all the more tedious.

Luckily it was the Friday before our last week-long break of the semester. The doom of impending exams was to follow but in the meantime, I’d be spending the time off at my parent’s home.  

“Lisbet, see me after class.” The Professor announced before starting up.

It clicked right away then, and I looked diagonally across the aisle at Ivar who shifted in his seat to hide the smirk growing on his face. Though he didn’t hide his mischievous eyes as he snuck a look at me over his shoulder and instantly sniggered at my reaction. I was half tempted to throw something at him if the Professor hadn’t been starting his lecture. Instead, I just shook my head at him.

He leaned back and held out his hands, palms up. ‘ _What?’_

I rolled my eyes and chose to ignore him. Other students were beginning to look at our interaction and I didn’t want any more attention set on me if my grade was indeed the meaning of being held back.

And it was. I waited for the rest of the class to file out, Ivar included, to approach the Professor’s desk. He seemed uncomfortable. Had been fidgeting uselessly with his papers and books but it didn’t take an expert to realize he wasn’t actually organizing anything.

“Professor?” I tread carefully, encouraging him to speak. There was no sense in us both agonizing through awkwardness for longer than necessary.

“I don’t normally do this, Lisbet,” he said quickly, and a little too loud considering I stood right in front of him. He still wouldn’t meet my eye.

“Do what?” I prodded, during another dramatic pause.

“I went over your paper again, and I – I thought -” He was stuttering; nervously scratched his head and fiddled with his glasses. “The B wasn’t fitting, Lisbet. I bumped your grade up for top marks. I’ll make sure it reflects your average at the end of the semester.”

He rushed the words out so fast that I didn’t know how to respond. But he seemed more and more tense the longer I stayed, so I thanked him as genuinely as I could and took my leave of him in a sort of airy state.

Ivar had been standing directly outside the door. He was leaned back on the wall, examining his nails. Didn’t even look up as I came around the door jamb until I smacked his shoulder.

“What was that for?” He asked, a shit-eating grin playing at his lips.

I rolled my eyes and we started moving down the hallway, away from the classroom. I stopped again at a far enough distance and turned on him.

“You can’t just _do_ that,” I tried snapping as quietly as possible.

Ivar scoffed and looked down at me. “No ‘thank you, Ivar’? ‘You saved my perfect average from being ruined, Ivar’?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the high pitch of his voice, even as he mocked me. A mill of students rushed by and I had to stand closer to him to get out of the way. He towered over me with my nose practically touching his chest. His eyes bore down on mine and I got a chill, watching his mouth as his jaw rolled. My mind spaced out a little and I suddenly felt my fight against him disappear.

 _Fuck_.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to look down at the small space between us. “I can’t just come to you every time I get a shitty grade.”

“You don’t get shitty grades.” Ivar reasoned. He tilted forward on his crutches till his face was a _little_ too close to mine. “That’s the point, Lisbet.”

The way he said it made perfect sense to me. I probably should have asked how he had the influence to fix a Professor’s grading. Or if this was a common thing for him to do. But I surmised it wasn’t often. Ivar _was_ very intelligent, he didn’t need to manipulate grades to prove it. Most confusing was why he would do it for me so freely.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts and we moved together down the hallway again; it was slowly clearing as most classes came to an end for the day.

“Can I drive you home?” I offered as we exited the building.

“Will you not stick around today?” Ivar asked. If he was disappointed, his tone of voice gave no inkling of it. Oddly enough, _that_ was disappointing.

But I shook my head, carrying on. “Going home for the week. I’m a little anxious to get the break started with.”

Ivar hummed. “Have I been wearing you out?”

I nearly choked at the way he said it. Like there was some hidden context and he was playing coy, wanting to watch me trip over myself in attempt to figure it out. I looked up at him under fluttering eyelashes, just in time to see him run his tongue slowly across his bottom lip as he met my eye. He _had_ to know what he was doing.

“You have an odd way of saying things,” was all I could say. I mostly mumbled that I would go get the car, and left him on the sidewalk.

My car had been parked on the far side of the building, in the student lot. I tossed my backpack in the backseat when I got in, then drove over to pick up Ivar. The role reversal felt strange to me.

I’d seen Cris go about this plenty of times. Once I parked the car, I popped the trunk and got out; circled round front to open the passenger door for him. Perhaps Ivar’s insistence on giving me rides was because he didn’t want me to help him. He scowled as he handed me one crutch, then tossed his backpack in the back before taking hold of the interior grip handle. With the one crutch, it was enough to support him as he lowered himself and backed into the passenger seat.

I took the other crutch as he situated himself in the car and tucked them both in the trunk. I owned a basic Sedan that had more than enough room, and I noticed it seemed to be a comfortable height for Ivar to slide in. He was already settled when I got back behind the wheel.

We made one stop at my dorm; I still needed to get the suitcase I had packed for the week. By the time I got back, Ivar had lit up a cigarette and was fiddling with the knobs of my radio. He tuned from station to station as I drove off, unsatisfied to the point of becoming annoying. I would’ve smacked his hand if I didn’t mind him getting irritated with me. But I wasn’t going to see him for another week and this was probably the most civil we’d ever been with each other. I didn’t want to spoil it.

Eventually, he settled on a station. “Toxity” blared out of my speakers and Ivar turned the volume up before relaxing against the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him start to drum his fingers on his thigh in time to the beat. In sheer curiosity, I let my attention waver from the road to get a look at him. There was the _teeniest_ of bops to his head and I caught him subtly mouthing the words.

So. Ivar was a System of a Down fan. I smiled to myself, pleased to have learned one more thing about him. It was such a distraction that I didn’t even notice as I breezed by a white car parked on the side of the road… until suddenly, blue lights were flashing behind me.

Looking in the rearview mirror, the word _Politi_ filled its reflection.

“ _Fuck_ ,” I groaned.

I pulled over and turned the radio down.

“ _Bad_ girl,” Ivar tutted.

I ignored him and stretched between our seats to get my license from my backpack. “Can you get my papers?”  Ivar didn’t move right away and when I slid back into my seat, I looked at him to find he was leaned in the opposite direction, inspecting my side view mirror. “Ivar!”

He sucked his teeth and went through the glove box. “ _Relax_.”

There was no relaxing – this was the last thing I needed. I cursed again as the Inspector climbed out of the cruiser. I hadn’t held a job since the previous summer and I didn’t want to waste the rest of my money paying off a speeding ticket. Not to mention, my parents would flip…

Ivar passed my papers over just as the Inspector reached my window. I hardly managed to roll it all the way down and pass them over the door when he started on his routine spiel. Remarked how I had been driving 35kph over the speed limit. I already had a slew of excuses prepared for him, waiting at the tips of my teeth and I was just about to start begging when –

“Inspektor Jakobsen!”

There was a strangled pause as I slowly turned my head to look at Ivar. He was amidst leaning over to hover just in front of my face. My ‘ _What the fuck are you doing?_ ’ facial expression was completely brushed aside as he put his hand on my shoulder to silence me and cleared his throat.

“How have you been?”

The Inspektor crouched down to get a look at my passenger and his stern, patronizing countenance fell from his face almost instantly. Ivar’s perfect, sharp teeth gleamed menacingly as he smiled.

“I-Ivar,” the Inspektor stuttered, taking an instinctive step back from the car. “I didn’t realize – I don’t normally see -”

“- That is all right, Inspektor,” Ivar soothed. Even chuckled, but there was a new darkness in his eyes that left me feeling cold to witness. “My friend here has been nice enough to give me a ride home today.” I flinched when he gestured toward me. “It’s a good thing, I think. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. All is well I hope?”

I was in awe. Absolutely struggling to keep my mouth from falling open as I watched Ivar act in this manner.

“Yes. Yes – thank you, Ivar.” The notebook the Inspektor had been writing up my ticket with was abruptly shoved into his back pocket, and he practically threw my papers back at me. “Just giving your friend a warning.” He offered me a helpless smile and I was glad to have the task of fumbling with my paperwork so I wouldn’t have to return one of my own.

“ _Of course_ ,” Ivar purred, holding out a reassuring hand. “I will make sure she drives more safely. I wouldn’t want another busted limb!”

The Inspektor didn’t find that funny. Neither did I. Even as Ivar laughed at himself.

The radio com on the Inspektor’s belt suddenly and loudly started to beep, startling the pair of us but not Ivar as someone paged him. The poor man’s face turned white with relief and without another word, strutted back toward his cruiser. I hadn’t even managed to turn my car back on and he was already speeding away.

“What… the fuck was that?” I exaggerated each word as I turned to look at Ivar. My eyebrows nearly disappeared in my hairline.

Ivar was adjusting his blazer as he settled back in his seat; straightened his tie. “You know, I was _just_ starting to become fond of you but you’ve been rather _unappreciative_ today. Perhaps next time I won’t be so nice.”

As if a knee-jerk reaction, I actually started to apologize and thank him until I caught myself and scoffed incredulously, throwing my hands in the air. “He almost shit himself, Ivar. He was scared of you!”

Ivar rolled his eyes. “What does it matter?” He disputed, sounding annoyed. Then he was looking at me in a way that made me understand the Inspektor’s fear. His eyes hardened while his lips pressed into a thin line. I could feel goosebumps rise on the back of my neck. It was enough to keep me from pushing the subject, and after a tense moment of staring me down, his face lightened.

“Are we going to sit here all day?” He pondered. He finally looked away and I released a lungful of air without having realized I’d been holding it. Ivar’s voice was lighter now; the transition in personalities was startling, to say the least. “I thought you had to drive all the way home.”

 

 

I had managed to relax some once we reached the Estate. I drove through the winding, gravelly driveway until arriving at the front of it. There was only one other car parked outside – a white Mercedes.

We turned to each other at the same time and the atmosphere suddenly felt thick again; Ivar was too close to me for comfort. It was sickening how entrancing he was. A short few moments ago had me scared, now I felt hot and struggled to keep myself from looking at his mouth.

It was no help that I sensed that he could read me like a book. The corner of his lip twitched in a way that felt instigative.

“I guess that’s twice I owe you, now,” I blurted. _Fuck._  I really needed to learn some tact where Ivar was concerned.

I winced, regretting my choice of words, even as Ivar chuckled. Then he lurched toward me and I froze in shock, only to watch him smirk _one more time_ as he reached for his backpack behind us. I bit my tongue to keep from growling and jumped when he shoved the pack in my arms.

“Come,” he commanded. “She will want to meet you.”

I whipped around and saw Aslaug Lothbrok standing between the oak double-doors. She was even more glamorous than she looked on the television and in the pictures I’d seen of her. She wore a peach colored, fine tailored suit that – even from inside the car – brightened the strawberry tones of her beautiful, long wavy hair. This wasn’t the first time a Lothbrok made me feel out of place. At what point was I to get used to it?

Ivar snapped at me to get moving and I flung myself out of the car with his backpack over my shoulder. I retrieved his crutches and handed them over one by one as he swiftly pulled himself out.

It was a shy, short walk to the house. I lingered behind Ivar; I don’t think it had ever crossed my mind that I would be meeting his mother. Any other time I had been here and she was busy at work, having taken over her deceased husband’s business. Her mere gallantry was intimidating, more and more so as we approached.

“You must be Lisbet,” she proclaimed with a cheery smile. Even her freckles were gorgeous; splayed perfectly across her straight nose and sharp cheekbones. Between Ragnar and she, no wonder their sons were so handsome. I felt frumpy and unattractive in comparison, much shorter than her and dressed in my plain blue uniform.

“Yes,” I concurred breathlessly, trying to match her cheerfulness. “It’s so nice to meet you, Aslaug.”

“I assure you, the pleasure is mine. I have been very anxious to meet the young woman that’s been spending all this time with my son.”

My stomach plummeted. Her smile stayed, but there was such a wicked possessiveness to her tone. It came as no surprise to me that a parent of someone like Ivar would have been overprotective in raising them. He was no aide to the matter; he carried himself to her side and gave her a warm kiss on the cheek. I’d never seen him express such a demeanor.

She must have seen the look on my face, for she pouted. “Don’t fret – I only mean I’m curious about you.” I forced myself to laugh but couldn’t recognize the sound of it. “You _must_ stay for dinner.”

I was about to decline the offer when Ivar spoke for me.

“She can’t – she has to drive home for the holiday.”

I bristled at his interruption. “Ivar’s right… I should be going. I’ll probably be stuck in traffic as is.”

Aslaug glared at her son, but beamed at me anyway and clapped her hands together. “Another night, then? I’m suffocating with all of these oafish men.”

This time, my laughter was real and I felt myself slacken as she charmed me. I nodded and thanked her.

I started back to my car until realizing I still had Ivar’s backpack. I turned back around and pulled it off my shoulder. Aslaug took it from me and I spared one last glance at Ivar. It was unfortunate that I couldn’t read him as well as he could read me. He stared coolly at me and I became tense again; briefly wondered if I would miss him during our time apart.

“See you next week.”


	4. Chapter 4

A mere four days had gone by and I had to admit, I missed Ivar.

Well, maybe ‘miss’ wasn’t the word. I had comparable feelings for Ivar as I do for cigarettes. A lot of my smoking was habitually done; eat a meal, smoke. Have a beer, smoke. Go for a drive, smoke. It was mostly the routine that kept me smoking.

As I tried to enjoy my first day off, by around four o’clock I found myself expecting a phone call from Ivar, his usual snappy tone as he demanded I meet him outside. On Saturday, I predictably checked my phone and pouted when I didn’t have any notifications of a missed call. I slapped my own forehead once I realized it was because I was waiting to hear from him. While at home, I was occupied with friends and family I hadn’t seen since the beginning of the semester. Each day led to late nights in my hometown, either at a bar or someone’s house. A much-needed break, sure, but I could feel the absence of schoolwork and cramming sessions as if it was also something I’d been yearning for.

It was easy to rationalize away; Ivar and I had developed a very solid routine. Of course it would make sense that out of habit I would be anticipating his call. 

But by the time Tuesday came around, I was still going through that same motion and I started to worry that perhaps I’d grown more attached to Ivar than I originally believed. The thought was unsettling. A part of me I was trying to ignore was wondering if he was going through the same thing, though I found it doubtable. Ivar had excellent composure while I did not. Sometimes I even felt the urge to text him – to say what was beyond me, but I never followed through with the impulse.

 

That night I was with my cousin Mikka. We had always been very close since we were kids, insisting that we were really brother and sister and had been separated at birth. Neither of us had any siblings and naturally stuck together. He was one of the few people that, throughout my life, I’d been able to fall in sync with. He, too, was working toward becoming a doctor. I still had ways to go.

Mikka also happened to be a little bit of a stoner. He was driving into town to refill his weed supply, so when he heard I was home on break he swung by to pick me up so I could tag along. I was made appalled to find out that he was still picking up pot from my ex-boyfriend, Kaleb.

For the drive over, I brought a flask of whiskey to sup on as a coping mechanism while I mentally prepared myself. Luckily, Kaleb and I didn’t attend the same school, so since breaking up a good few months ago I hadn’t been forced to see him in any circumstance. But if I had to see ‘he whose name we do not mention’ (as Sofia liked to call him) now, then I didn’t want to be sober while doing it.

“Get a new boyfriend that sells and I’ll start picking up from them.” Mikka explained over the car radio. “It’s slim pickings at home and the one guy I know of is too sketchy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said dryly. Ivar’s face floated in my mind as it so often did these days, wondering if selling drugs was one of his many supposed secrets. Being a drug dealer made more sense to me than being in the Mob. Or _maybe_ drug dealing was part of being in the Mob?

I scoffed at myself for even considering it, unscrewed my flask and took a bountiful gulp. I didn’t want to think about Ivar. He was an unnatural mixture of mystery and allure, consuming my thoughts in a way that was steadily becoming borderline unhealthy.

When we got to my ex’s house, Mikka was nice enough to park two blocks down the road so I could have one last sip from my flask before stashing it in his glove box. From our viewpoint, it was evident Kaleb was throwing a house party. I was only slightly relieved at this. I had no intention of participating in any kind of event Kaleb was throwing, but at least there was the possibility that there would be enough distraction that I could slip in and out with Mikka unnoticed.

“We don’t have to mingle, do we?” I asked tentatively.

Mikka shook his head but I could see his eyes following a group of girls entering the house. Typical.

I smoked a quick cigarette as we walked over. My head was already warming with just a hint of a buzz that calmed me. It helped that Mikka was about half a meter taller than me. I felt hidden behind him and had a ready plan to sneak around without having to speak to Kaleb.

At least there would be free booze.

Kaleb was another Richie Rich. A trust fund kid whose parents were usually at their vacation home in France. I met Kaleb when I was seventeen and he was nicer then. But he grew entitled and mean as we got older and I dumped him after finding out he had cheated on me half a dozen times. It had been a period in my life that I was thankful for being more of a logic thinker than an emotional one; dumping him came easy. It hurt a lot, sure, but I didn’t blame myself for his actions. He was evidently going on a downward path and the lack of monogamy was all the push I needed for a clean sever.

His house was just as oversized as I remembered and the music playing from inside could be heard from the street. Mikka didn’t bother knocking after I finished smoking – a small victory it was to not have to endure a formal greeting, and I tucked my head down as we went inside.

This was unlike the house parties I usually went to. As soon as we walked in, the number of drugs circulating through mills of people immediately caught my attention. Kaleb had been selling pot since he was a teenager, that I knew – and didn’t mind. I smoked myself at the time, but over time I became more obsessive over things like my education and schoolwork. It was one of the many offsets that drove us apart. But this was at a level unlike anything I’d ever witnessed. There had to have been at least fifty people in attendance and it held the appearance of a retail event rather than any type of regular kegger.

Bags of pills were passed around like candy and anyone sitting at a flat, solid surface had a line of cocaine and who knew what else stretched before them. Smoke filled the foyer and living room and it reeked of pot and chemicals.

I raised a brow in Mikka’s direction but even he looked surprise.

"I… guess I’ll find Kaleb?” He shrugged, and while he headed for the living room I went in the opposite direction toward the kitchen. At this point I recognized no one and wanted to be kept busy with a drink in my hand until Mikka returned.

 

It took forty minutes passing by of being stuck in the kitchen and playing on my phone for me to start becoming annoyed. I had yet to see a hair of Mikka and if I tried to help myself to the liquor cabinet one more time, I was certain someone would try to interact with me. I didn’t want that.

I still hadn’t recognized anyone, which seemed odd at this point. This was my hometown and yet not one familiar face? Kaleb and I had plenty of mutual friends when we were still together, but all of these people didn’t seem to fit into that same realm. Most of them were obviously older and richer. Not the type I was used to that would hang out in a den all night with a few Growlers of ale.

Upon finishing my second drink, I gave up and sought out to find Mikka. After asking a few random people where Kaleb might be, I reluctantly moved further into the house to his father’s office where I heard he was ‘conducting business’. At that point, my state was slowly developing into something closer to tipsy than sober, and the thought of actually having to interact with Kaleb wasn’t _as_ off-putting as it was originally.

Kaleb’s father had a thick vein on his forehead that throbbed if he ever found us in his office; now, it was packed with people, and conducting business certainly seemed the appropriate terminology.

More of those older rich looking types seemed to be in organized, filed line ups and I felt more out of place than ever. I was dressed to tag along with my cousin and go to a dive bar after – in jeans and a black sweatshirt, nothing fancy. The office contained mostly men and they were all dressed as if just leaving a yacht club or summat. Polo shirts, expensive blazers, shit – _khakis_ even. With the alcohol flowing in my system, I couldn’t help but snort, drawing attention from half of the room where there had been mostly hushed conversation.

“Lisbet!”

 _Fuck_.

Behind his father’s desk on the opposite side of the room was my ex-boyfriend. My eyes narrowed at him through the crowd. He hardly looked different from the last time I saw him… Perhaps a little grimier. Kaleb was pale with dark hair that fell to his pointed chin. He was still handsome with defined eyebrows, cool grey eyes and cheekbones that appeared sharp on his thin face… And again, I couldn’t help but think of Ivar. And how in comparison –

I tilted my head. Feeling scared at my own admission but a small swell of pride all the same. Ivar was far more beautiful than him. There _wasn’t_ a comparison. And in such a way that I felt guilty for nearly thinking otherwise.

Kaleb raised his arms as if excited to see me - probably because of whatever drugs were flowing through his system. I found it safe to assume that if he was hosting this type of event, he had to be partaking in more than just some pot these days.

“Hello, Kaleb.” My eyes kept busy roaming the room for Mikka; I was hoping not to make any more thorough of a reunion.

But Kaleb, ever the attention seeker, rose from the desk and excitedly rushed over to pull me into a hug. I froze stiff in his arms at the contact; it made my skin crawl.

“How is that a way of greeting?” He reprimanded. He jerked me back to clasp onto my shoulders and give me a shake. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated. Fucked up, he certainly was. “Come! I must get you a drink.”

I opened my mouth to object but he was already grabbing me by the wrist and whisking me out of the office.

We milled through the crowd, back to the kitchen and straight to the liquor cabinet that I had already been helping myself to.

“Still a gin drinker?” Kaleb bent over to leer in my face and I grimaced. There was something more than off-putting about the way he grinned at me.

“Sure.”

He giggled and reached toward one of the higher shelves to grab a bottle of Tanqueray, then pulled a fresh glass from the cabinet for me. His entire demeanor was filled with forced energy; he kept sniffing and blinking heavily and I knew what those signs had meant. I can’t believe I used to fuck this guy. That I even thought I was in love with him.

I huffed and turned away, nearly shrieking with relief when I finally spotted Mikka – of course chatting up a trio of women.

I smacked his arm as I rushed to his side. “Where have you been?”

Mikka merely laughed, infuriating me all the more. He gestured to his current company, offering a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Lis’. Got distracted.”

“Well, did you get what you needed? I want to leave.” I silently pleaded with my eyes before giving a pointed look over my shoulder toward Kaleb.

“In a few minutes, let me finish my drink.”

 _Fucking traitor_. I sulked as he turned his attention back to the three ladies but they were talking amongst themselves now, gazes averted across the room and toward the foyer. Mikka scoffed and nudged me, as if blaming me for their distraction, but then we both took notice of the large group making their way in the house.

There were probably about eight men, mostly large with a stocky build. Their appearances made it hard enough not to notice them but the party seemed to fall a little quieter at their presence. They were definitely not one of the crowd here. They moseyed into the place with curious appraisal, and it was then that I noticed Ubbe and Hvitserk at the forefront of the pack.

 _Fuck_ , this night was a disaster. The Lothbrok’s lived about an hour away from here. This was the last place I would expect to see them. I searched the face of each of their company and hopelessly felt a twinge of disappointment that Ivar was not with them.

As they dispersed into the house, the atmosphere slowly became thick. It wasn’t just that they weren’t part of the crowd, but people seemed to be downright wary of them. It was as if they were police coming to bust a bunch of underage drinkers. People parted, making way for them as they appeared to scope the place out. Hvitserk did a double take when he saw me. Our eyes met from across the room and I flinched at the way he looked at me. I never did quite feel comfortable around him yet, but at least in the Lothbrok Estate he managed to stay charming.

His eyes narrowed and he stopped to nudge Ubbe. In no subtle fashion, he pointed at me, and Ubbe followed the direction of his finger. Even he didn’t seem happy to see me, and regardless of whether or not he genuinely felt it, Ubbe _always_ appeared happy to see me. He was superbly friendly and our farewells had upgraded to _hugging_ in the past couple of weeks.

“We should go.” I whispered to Mikka. I didn’t know how to explain it, but something about the whole scenario made me uneasy.

Mikka stepped closer, trying to be discreet. “You _know_ them?”

I was about to answer but Hvitserk was already walking over as Ubbe went elsewhere. In my head, I was rushing to think of a quick escape but then Hvitserk was in front of me, standing a little too closely.

“What are you doing here, Lisbet?” Hvitserk prodded. It never crossed my mind to find him intimidating, especially given he was slightly smaller than Ivar and Ubbe, but there had been a certain edge to his voice that was vaguely disconcerting. His hair was drawn up in a ponytail and his jacket was zipped and snug on his torso. He had a more serious demeanor than I had ever seen.

Kaleb was suddenly at my side and shoved the fresh gin and tonic in my hand. With everything they teach you about accepting drinks from other people, I should have known how irresponsible I was being. I wouldn’t realize it until shortly after, but I believe it was then that my drink was spiked. But here I was, standing between my ex-boyfriend and Hvitserk Lothbrok and it was too stressful – too much of joining two worlds when I didn’t even want to be in this house to begin with, that I immediately tilted my head back and took half the drink down in one gulp.

“Hvitserk,” Kaleb sang, seeming just about as surprised as I was. How they even knew each other was another mystery. “I wouldn’t expect to see you here.”

Hvitserk had still been glaring at me and slowly turned his head to drag his eyes up and down the length of Kaleb. It seemed Ivar was not the only threatening brother of the family.

“We need to talk,” Hvitserk said monotonously. He leaned away from me and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“W-we?” Kaleb stuttered, then forced a laugh that only added more tension between the two men. “Ubbe is here? And Iva-”

“Just Ubbe.” Hvitserk confirmed. He nodded his head to the other room and Kaleb heaved a sigh, taking his leave of us. Hvitserk lingered a moment longer before averting his attention back to me.

“We were just about to leave.” I quickly blurted, as if I had been caught stealing something and he was an authority that required explanation.

He huffed and scratched a spot behind his ear. “Probably a good idea.”

My mind buzzed in confusion as he walked away before I could question him. I hadn’t realized the four pair of eyes that were staring at me.

“What?”

Mikka sputtered. “You _know_ them?” He asked again. My brows furrowed at the way he said it when one of his entourage of women piped in.

“Of course she does. She’s screwing one of them.”

It was my turn to sputter and I balked at the blonde who dared to even say such a thing. I didn’t have a clue who she was, nor did I recall ever seeing her before.

“ _Which one_?” Mikka asked, even more accusatory than before.

I immediately became defensive and my jaw unhinged, shocked that he would just listen to this stranger without question. I shoved him this time around, trying to ignore her, but she wouldn’t stop talking.

“Ivar Lothbrok! _Everyone_ knows they’re together,” she announced, entirely too pleased with herself. My thoughts became jumbled with about a hundred things I was prepared to shout simultaneously but Mikka’s voice continued to raise louder and at a higher octave.

“ _Ivar_?” He waved his hands in my face, shaking his head back and forth. “Lis’, that guy is no good -”

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could tune this out. My limbs suddenly felt like they were getting too heavy and the back and forth between everyone was becoming oddly overstimulating. I pinched my nose before responding.

“I was just his fucking _tutor_ , Mikka.”

“Bull shit,” the blonde retorted. I eyed the girls on either side of her, sniggering behind their cocktails. It was enough to make my lip curl. “I don’t blame you, you know. He’s _real_ easy on the eyes. Even _if_ his legs don’t work, I’ve heard from _plenty_ other’s that everything else does.”

Now - admittedly, I am not a confrontational person. I do have a backbone, but if any type of altercation can be avoided I will rationally talk myself out of it before resorting to anything else. This time around, I almost dropped my drink as I lurched forward until I stood in her face and opened my mouth, index finger directed at her chin, ready to tell her exactly what I thought of her in the harshest, most vile way possible. But Mikka was quick to interject – his arm snaked around my waist and he forcibly took the glass out of my hand.

“Time to go!” He snapped, and proceeded to pull me all the way through the house and out of the front door.

As soon as the fresh air hit me, I tugged myself away from him, nearly stumbling over as I did.

“Christ, Lisbet, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that,” he remarked, almost laughing.

I busied myself with pulling out a cigarette. My limbs had turned from heavy to rubber, and it took five tries to light it.

Mikka took notice. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not a lot, actually.” I snorted because it really didn’t make much sense; I was just as confused as he. I felt kind of wobbly and realized my palms were sweating. “I’m not feeling much like myself.”

“You think?” He watched me with a wary gaze. “I thought you were about to punch that girl.”

“Fuck her!” I snapped. Then laughed at my developing slur. “What she said was crude.”

Mikka sighed and I had _almost_ felt sweet relief that he had stopped bickering with me when he spoke up again. “You’re not really… _Y’know_ … _with_ Ivar Lothbrok?”

I rolled my eyes as I took a drag off my cigarette. “I told you, I was just tutoring him.”

“Good, because I’ve heard some crazy shit about that family. I know there’s rumors and everything but…”

I tuned him out as he went on his lecture. My phone was vibrating in my back pocket. I pulled it out, only to giggle in disbelief and shake my head at the Caller ID. _Speak of the fucking Devil_.

“Hello, Ivar.” Mikka’s eyes bulged out of his head as I answered and I tried to muffle my laughter. I don’t know why I was finding things so funny when only a moment ago I had been so enraged.

“What are you doing?” Ivar asked on the other end. I hummed into the phone, reveling in the sound of his voice. Not even a week without him but all of a sudden it seemed much, much longer than that. Prior to this very moment, I may have made several attempts at denying I missed him, but just seeing his name light up on my phone made me so giddy – I almost said the words aloud.

And for whatever reason, I was not at all bothered that he clearly knew where I was.

“Did Hvitserk tell you I was here?” I batted a hand at Mikka who threw his hands in the air as he turned and took a few hasty steps away in disapproval.

Ivar didn’t answer my question, instead asked – “Are you fucked up?”

I heaved a sigh and leaned over till I could brace one hand on my knee, noticing I had hardly touched my cigarette. “Ivar, I’m fairly certain someone spiked my drink.”

While he paused, I took a deep breath. It felt incredible in my lungs. This was probably ecstasy or something like it that _surely_ Kaleb had slipped in my drink. That prick. I’d never tried it but as someone striving to be in the medical field, the symptoms were starting to rack up and make sense to me.

“Hvitserk will be outside soon. I want you to leave with him.” Ivar finally said.

“I’m with Mikka,” I countered, as if he knew who Mikka was.

“Tell Mikka to leave.” I looked at Mikka who had made it down the sidewalk at this point. He swung his keys around his finger, seeming to finally be as ready to leave as I was. “Tell him we’ll make sure you get home safe.”

I don’t know why I didn’t make any argument except for the fact that I was on drugs. It helped that Ivar had such a commanding tone to his voice that once he gave an order, I was willing to accept and fulfill it. I would worry about my willingness of that later.

I was about to say something else when I realized the call had ended. I put the phone back in my pocket and took another deep, pleasurable breath.

“What did he say?” Mikka asked.

“I’m going to get a ride back with Hvitserk, but you should go.”

Mikka outright laughed and strutted back over to me. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not letting you leave with him.”

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted. I wasn’t sure if I could trust the Lothbrok’s, least of all Hvitserk, but even in the state I was in – or better yet _because_ of it, I was certain they wouldn’t harm me. I repeated Ivar’s words. “They’ll get me home safe.”

On cue, there was the thrumming of music as the front door of Kaleb’s house opened and Hvitserk rushed out, sans Ubbe or anyone else he arrived with. That seemed to relieve Mikka a little.

“It’s _okay_ ,” I assured him as Hvitserk approached. I don’t think he realized that I was under the influence of something other than a little alcohol, so perhaps the calmness to my voice was what finally broke his resolve.

“If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow morning, I’m calling the cops.” He promised, and I was certain he would; it wouldn’t be the first time he made that threat. He gave Hvitserk a warning look who merely smiled back, but Mikka kept his eyes glued to us as I was led to a black SUV. Hvitserk held the door open for me and I clumsily clambered inside, then instantly groaned at the feel of the leather seat. It was so _smooth_ under my fingertips.

Hvitserk climbed in on the driver’s side and watched me pet the material with a cocked brow before starting the engine. I sunk low in my seat as he drove off. Hvitserk seemed amused. I laughed once he did.

 

It felt like much longer, but according to the clock on the dashboard it had only been twenty minutes. It was also beginning to rain, and I pressed my face against the cool glass of the window, admiring the way the droplets trickled down and reflected the street lights. Ecstasy or not, I could tell that whatever I’d been drugged with was reaching its full effect.

The droplets were so distracting, it took me a moment to realize we were parked in front of a restaurant, looking evidently closed…

“I thought you were taking me home?”

Hvitserk and I looked at each other over the console and he snorted at me. “I’ve never met your parents, but I don’t think they’d be too happy to see you like this.”

He had a point. It was only shortly after midnight, they were probably still awake.

“We’ll lay low for a while,” he continued.

“Okay…” I all but breathed, playing with my hair now. It felt so soft between my fingers. I knew what I was doing must have seemed odd, but I couldn’t help it all the same. I didn’t care if I looked like a fool. In fact, part of me was glad that I realized I’d been high. I may have panicked if I thought otherwise, and though I knew Kaleb was a piece of shit for doing this to anyone without their consent, I was going to try to ride this out as smoothly as possible.

I’d been so busy thinking about all of that and the raindrops, and feeling my hair and the leather seat, Hvitserk startled me when he appeared suddenly at my window and opened the passenger door to help me out.

“I’m not hungry,” I protested adamantly, even though he hadn’t asked. I wobbled a little as I stepped onto the sidewalk and took hold of his arm – swooned at the feeling of his jacket beneath my hand. More expensive leather. Hvitserk seemed not to mind how ridiculous I was being. He even chuckled as he looped his arm through mine and led me to the restaurant.

It was a burger type joint, with a rustic yet diner-like vibe. The walls were made of brick and the booths that lined them were entirely wooden, but each table had a different colored argyle patterned tablecloth. Since the restaurant was closed, only half of the wide room was lit – every color displayed was practically glowing in my eyes due to the dim lighting. I blinked heavily, taking in the imagery.

The place was empty but there was noise coming from the kitchen all the way in the back, which brought my attention to the sole patron in the building.

I cursed aloud and without hesitation, turned around intent on walking straight out of the door. But Hvitserk was in the way - thought I was tripping over myself and took hold of my hips to turn me around again.

“Careful there, Lisbet,” Hvitserk cooed. He left his hand on the small of my back to keep me steady and led me toward the last booth where Ivar was sat.

Profanities sounded under my tongue the entire way over, thankful that he at least had a pair of headphones on and made no indication that he even knew we were there. I didn’t want to be around Ivar while I was drunk, let alone while on ecstasy. Nothing good would come out of that, and I could feel my heart begin to race within my chest at the mere thought of it.

I tried keeping it together but it was hard; it was like slow motion, walking to him now. For one, his hair draped over his shoulders, only to be slightly pushed back by the band of his headphones. His attention had been downcast to his laptop and the remains of a cigarette burned in an ash tray next to it. Puffs of smoke drifted around him in a hazy cloud, illuminated by the light of the computer screen. It was absolutely hypnotizing. My palms were no longer the only things sweating.

He had no reaction when Hvitserk practically plopped me down in the booth next to him and retreated into the kitchen; I could hear him greeting someone but I couldn’t focus on the words. At least in this position I wasn’t forced to look at Ivar. I fidgeted nervously, tugging and picking at the sleeves of my sweatshirt until his hand shot over and clamped over mine. I immediately froze. His skin was warm and the callouses of his palm tickled my sensitive skin.

Still, I didn’t want to look at him, even when he released my hands. In my peripherals, I could see him push back his headphones to let them hang around the back of his neck. He loosed his hair from under the band and the smell of shampoo wafted toward me. I clenched my eyes shut and whimpered.

“Lisbet,” he called, trying to get my attention. The sound of my name leaving his lips had me shiver. I could not believe this was happening. I couldn’t believe I was in some random restaurant in the middle of the night, rolling off ecstasy and sitting next to Ivar fucking Lothbrok. Out of all things that could have occurred during holiday, this – I would have never imagined. What the hell was happening with my life?

All trains of coherent thought disappeared from my mind as Ivar’s hand was suddenly snaking through my hair. I would have shrieked from the contact if my lungs hadn’t already expanded from the harsh gasp ripping through my throat.

His hand settled around the nape of my neck and he bent his wrist, forcing me to look at him. At the last second, I clenched my bottom lip between my teeth and was thankful for it. As soon as my eyes landed on his face, I had to forcibly will the inevitable moan to stay muffled in my chest.

Seeing him in this sort of heightened, hypersensitive state was an experience. Was he always this beautiful? I couldn’t fathom how wide my eyes must have been as I scoured over each inch of his face. I could hardly hold eye contact; his eyes were so bright and blue and I felt as if I’d drown if I kept his gaze. So, I raked over the rest of him instead.

His black, long-sleeved t-shirt was snug on him and his chest never seemed more taut. Even his bicep bulged through his sleeve as his arm stayed raised to brace my skull. The neck of the shirt was wide over his broad shoulders and my mouth watered at his exposed skin. It looked so soft and smooth and it took all the strength I had not to reach out and touch him – worse still when I noticed wisps of black ink peaking above the neckline. I had no idea Ivar even had tattoos – I had never seen him out of his uniform. The ink tempted me even further; I would have loved to pull the hem of his shirt aside and trace whatever pattern it made with my fingertips. They tingled at the mere thought of it.

He wore sweatpants, simple and grey. He couldn’t have appeared more casual yet here I was, salivating at him.

“I…” I trailed, having full intention of saying his name but my mouth couldn’t even form it.

I don’t think he realized what I was trying to say. Instead, he sucked on his lip in what I presumed was an effort not to laugh at me. This only brought my attention to his mouth… His perfect, soft looking, plump and pouty… _Fuck!_ This was not good. With certainty my pupils had been blown into large orbs, I clenched my eyes shut again. It would have been impossible for Ivar not to notice where my attention had been directed.

“You were not kidding,” he mused.

“What’s that?” I gulped, not realizing how hard I’d been panting. I squealed when he allowed his thumb to graze back and forth over the rim of my ear. The touch could’ve been light enough that perhaps he didn’t realize he was doing it, but for me, a violent chill coursed down my spine and my neck craned over his hand.

Ivar tutted at me. “What did they give you?”

“Ecstasy, I think.” At once, Ivar pulled his hand away from me. The disappearance of it was so sudden that I hitched toward him and wound up propped against his shoulder.

“Who is Mikka?” Ivar asked then. His mouth was quite close to my forehead and I needed him to stop speaking for a few minutes. I took several deep breaths and was quickly reminded how soothing oxygen felt in my lungs with each inhale. “Was it him who did this to you?”

“No, no…” I said in a hurry. “He’s my cousin.” I was starting to slouch again, sinking into my seat so that I was completely slack against Ivar’s arm. The muscle of it felt grounding; I was starting to relax, feeling immensely safer now being this close to him. If he minded it, he didn’t protest. But I don’t think I would’ve cared if he did.

“Then who, Lisbet?”

“Kaleb,” I mumbled. I couldn’t comprehend the purpose of Ivar’s line of questioning; was too preoccupied with the feel of him beside me. I wasn’t sweating anymore; my heartbeat was slowing down. I was entranced in his very presence, melting at the mere smell of him. The subtle cologne was yet again rocking my senses. The urge to nestle my face against his neck had persistently returned.

“Kaleb…” He repeated, more to himself than to me. “How do you know Kaleb?”

I grimaced, not wanting to talk about it. Kaleb wasn’t worth wasting this moment over. But Ivar pressed, gently saying my name once again. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Even in my stupor, it was obvious how tense Ivar became.

Hvitserk returned from the kitchen. I let my eyes slide open and watched him sit down opposite of us with a basket of fresh chips. He smirked at me before raising a brow at Ivar.

“I think she likes you, Brother.”

I could feel the reverberations as Ivar growled.

“This isn’t funny.”

“She’s _fine_ ,” Hvitserk protested. He rolled his eyes as he munched on a chip. “Perhaps enjoying herself even – look at her.” He gestured toward me but I looked away, disliking the scrutiny. Instead I looked down at Ivar’s hand, currently clenched into a fist beside my thigh. “Have you missed him, Lisbet? It’s been quite some time since you’ve been apart so long.”

Ivar’s hand jerked out of my vision only to slam loudly on the tabletop. I must have made a noise as the sudden movement shook me out of my spot, for Ivar was quick to help me recover and secured his arm around my shoulders, keeping me upright. The obstruction was almost instantly forgotten. Ivar was warm and there was nothing I could do to prevent myself from closing my eyes and snuggle into his side. I felt like I was spinning, but not the nauseous way as a result of drinking too much. This was pleasant.

“I want Kaleb to be dealt with.”

Ivar spoke through grit teeth yet Hvitserk seemed unbothered by his outburst. One by one, he was still picking at his chips. “Ubbe is there now - dealing with him.”

“ _No_ ,” Ivar disagreed. “Ubbe is dealing with the drugs being funneled on _our_ territory.” Some part of me was insisting I try my hardest to listen to the two of them speak, swearing that this was important. Yet it was becoming less easy to focus on the words themselves. Ivar’s voice echoed in his chest, sending vibrating waves into my ear as I leaned into him. I could have fallen asleep like this, he bound me so possessively. “I want _Kaleb_ dealt with.”

“Careful, Ivar,” Hvitserk patronized. “She might be fucked up but she is still awake.”

Ivar huffed and his body became tense once more. “Then don’t make me say it again.”

Eventually, Hvitserk rose from his seat. “You’ll get her settled?”

I sighed at the feel of Ivar’s chin just barely bristling the top of my head. “I’ll have Cris take us back to the house.”

“You want to take her _home_?” Hvitserk asked, surprised.

“How _silly_ of me,” Ivar sneered, “You’re right – I will kick her out of our moving car and leave her on the lawn for her mother to find her.”

Hvitserk was already retreating, shouting – “You owe me one!” – over his shoulder as he exited the restaurant.

Ivar was quiet for a little. It was no bother to me; I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so excitable yet calm at the same time. I was _dissolving_ into him though I could feel myself quiver.

“Do you want to listen to music?” He asked, lips just above my ear.

“Okay.”

He was slow to withdraw his arm from me, even gentler still when he removed his headphones and slid them over my ears. I assisted in lifting my head from his shoulder. For a moment, I allowed myself to look at him and my heart fluttered at his look of concentration, settling the headphones just right so I was comfortable. He paused when he noticed me staring.

His eyes gave no window to his thoughts or feelings as we watched each other. I wished I could know them… and I still couldn’t decipher my own.

It was him that broke our gazes. He turned to his laptop and clicked a button to resume what he’d been listening to, and his arm slid around me once more as “Drop the Game” blared in my ears. It took no time at all for my eyes to fall closed again as I fell into the rhythm. I became adrift, unsure if the effect was due to the music or because of Ivar himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously folks, I am endlessly amazed at how supportive you all have been and all the amazing feedback I've received for this story. I can't begin to describe how it feels to have any of you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing this. Hope this chapter was satiating for now!
> 
>  
> 
> [listen to Drop the Game](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vopR3ys8Kw/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I feel a little cruel for where I left off in this one. BUT know that if I kept going, you would've had a way worse cliffhanger. Thanks to advice of a friend, I saw reason. Lucky for all of us, the next chapter shouldn't take too long to post.
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading and for all your kind words :)

Upon waking up the next day I felt… oddly rested. I had managed to sleep deeply with vividly colored dreams that slipped from memory once I began to blink through tired eyes.

Then I gasped, jumping in the bed as I realized I was not in my own.

My heart began to race and still half asleep, I investigated my surroundings. A single bed and nightstand. A rich oak dresser across from where I lay. An empty closet as well as a private bathroom. The plush loveseat to my right sat before a wide window with silk curtains that hung from a rod just below the ceiling. The bedroom was evidently not lived in, but each piece of furniture appeared expensive enough that my initial assumption was that I was in the Lothbrok Estate. Perhaps a guest room of some sort. It only brought more confusion…

_How the hell did I end up here?_

I took a moment to rest back on the pillows and collect my thoughts; calm my racing heart. Then almost as quickly, memories from the night before came flooding back in wonky succession.

Goddamn Kaleb and that ludicrous party. Hvitserk and Ubbe showing up – the reason for which I was still unsure of. Something tugged in the background of my mind, as if there was a minute detail that wasn’t yet ready to reveal itself… Then there’d been the ecstasy; that stupid girl and her inappropriate gossip revolving Ivar and -

Ivar…

“ _Fuck_ ,” I whined aloud. Then slapped my palm over my mouth as my voice echoed, hoping no one heard me.

I had been with Ivar for hours. As if attempting to recall the forgotten dreams of sleep, the chain of events began to form more coherently. I grimaced as I saw myself fawning over Ivar at that restaurant - still not having a clue as to where we were. Cringed as the image of me cuddling into him floated to the surface. I had actually _cuddled_ Ivar.

My hand wasn’t quick enough to stop the tortured moan this time around. I held onto my face with both hands, shaking my head back and forth, almost wishing I had remembered nothing at all. There was no doubt I had made an idiot of myself; Ivar was bound to think me a fool. _Weeks_ of effort I had put into hiding my attraction for him may as well have been thrown into the bins.

I remember the way he looked – the way _I_ looked at _him_ – the sounds I knew I made as I resisted the insatiable urge to do _more_ than just look. Worse still, the reeling sensation had stuck with me. I was nearly trembling through my process of recollection – shaken at how intensely I had been – _was still_ drawn to him. I found it a struggle to cope with… That I couldn’t simply pin the blame entirely on the high either. It may have intensified my feelings, but the point was that there had to be feelings already there to intensify.

I jumped again when my phone started to vibrate, knocking me out of my tangent as it shimmied across the nightstand.

“Mikka, hello.” I croaked.

“You were supposed to call,” he said, sounding grumpy.

“I’m sorry, I just woke up.” I sat up in the bed only to turn wide-eyed at my state of undress. I was in nothing but my camisole and after a look under the blanket, saw I had no pants on. I silently prayed that was by my own doing as Mikka went on speaking.

“Look, I’m on my way to come get you.” I looked at the time and saw it was almost two o’clock, then cursed into the phone. “Don’t worry, I covered for you. Your mom thinks you slept at mine.”

“Mikka…” I trailed as a wave of relief washed over.

“No need to thank me,” he laughed. “I did almost call the police. I rang you four times already, and almost gave up when Ivar Lothbrok answered.”

“W-what?” I couldn’t even begin to suppress the smile that was forming on my face, mildly warming at the thought that Ivar had possibly been in the guest room to check on me. But then I eyed my undressed body again and my face turned hot.

“I’ve got some questions about that one.” Mikka added curtly.

I grimaced. “Did he not fill you in?”

“Not truthfully, I suppose. He suggested you became unwell.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll be there in about twenty, Lisbet.”

I ended the call and climbed out of bed to peek through the window. I squinted through sunlight to see I was on the first floor, and the somewhat familiar view of the property made me believe I must have been close to Ivar’s room. Ivar… What was I to do about this circumstance? As each moment resurfaced out of order in my mind, I hoped that there was nothing more to further my embarrassment.

I set the curtain back in place just as a knocking sounded on the door. I rushed back to the bed and managed to yank the blanket up to cover my lower half just as Hvitserk entered. I felt a mixture of both disappointment and relief that it had not been Ivar.

“She lives!” He greeted cheerfully around a mouthful of apple. Still dressed in his pyjamas – black plaid pants and a loose-fitting T-shirt. He leaned on the doorjamb as he took another bite of the fruit. “Feeling better?”

I blushed. Between my current undress and the memories of stroking the leather seats of Hvitserk’s truck, I had some difficulty meeting his eye. “Did I do anything… borderline -”

Hvitserk only laughed, not comforting my unease by any means.

“Scandalous?” He offered. “Not to worry. Your virtue remains untainted.” I rolled my eyes at him but with a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, he went on to add – “Though you might try being more careful around my brother if you aren’t looking for trouble.”

I huffed, pulling the blanket further up my body. I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that. Another quality that seemed to run in the family. “Is he – is Ivar around?”

He shook his head, taking another bite of his apple. Another small wave of disappointment coursed over me, pulled my shoulders down into a slight hunch. “You hungry?” He asked mid-chew.

“N-no, thank you. My cousin’s coming to get me. Should be here…” I trailed off, distracted as I looked around the room for my clothes. Hvitserk cleared his throat and gestured at the foot of the bed. Taking the blanket with me, I peered over the edge to see my belongings folded neatly on the floor; my shoes and wallet were sat beside them.

I gave him an expectant look; he seemed unwilling to budge until I raised my brows, adding an extra hint. He chuckled and shook his head upon standing straight, and I could still hear the sound of it as he exited through the door.

In a matter of minutes, I cleaned myself up in the bathroom and attempted to fix my hair as best I could. Last night’s clothes came back on, and after collecting the rest of my things, I left the bedroom, prepared to wait for Mikka outside.

I wasn’t used to being in the house without Ivar. I didn’t know who was home or not and felt like a small intruder again. But I had to walk past the kitchen to make it to the front door – there were noises coming from it. I could hear the television blaring and the ever-present voice of Hvitserk.

With full intention of sneaking out, I started to tip-toe through the entryway.

“This cannot be the second meal you’ve hastily declined, can it?”

The hair on the back of my neck stood at the sound of Aslaug’s voice. I turned around slowly, urging my face to mask the shock I felt. Yet there she stood, in all her glory behind the magnificent marble countertop in the kitchen. She looked positively regal, draped in a perfectly white shawl. Her long hair was braided over her shoulder and she smiled so _sweetly_ at me, there was a tinge of shame at how intimidated I was by her.

I bustled into the kitchen to stand opposite her; Hvitserk and Sigurd paused through their lunch to stare on but I hardly spared them a glance. I didn’t want Aslaug to think I insulted her. In some ethereal way, she managed to command my respect, and without even thinking on it I sought her approval as much as I did Ivar’s.

“I apologize, I didn’t know…” I paused, voice weak. My hands wrung together as I thought up an explanation but came up with nothing. “I wish I could give you a better impression.”

“That is not necessary, Lisbet.” Aslaug refuted. She turned to open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “I’m not usually home this hour, but with the boys on holiday, I took some time off.”

She offered me the bottle and I graciously accepted. As I took it from her, she leaned across the island to perch on her elbows. I found myself mimicking her, leaning in as she lowered her voice. “They told me what happened last night.”

My boring brown eyes only left her sparkling blue ones to glare at Hvitserk, but he smirked right back. Sigurd busied himself with the television. Apparently, we bored him. I had no understanding of how anyone could disregard this woman’s presence.

“Don’t be embarrassed, I am very happy you are all right,” she insisted. “People can do such horrid things.”

Mikka must have been calling me; my phone vibrated in my back pocket and I blinked rapidly. Ivar’s ability to entrance most certainly stemmed from his mother.

“S-sorry – it’s my cousin…” I looked at the phone. He must have been outside.

“Of course. But my invitation still stands. It’s not so often my sons bring women to the house _with as much ambition as them_.”

She directed the last comment in jest at the two brothers. Hvitserk whined and playfully threw a piece of his food at her.

“Yes, we all know how _perfect_ Ivar is…” Sigurd sulked monotonously at the TV.

Aslaug scoffed and I didn’t blame her. Every time I saw Sigurd, he had something nasty to say. Usually directed at Ivar in particular. Over time, I found myself fonder of Hvitserk than I ever was of Sigurd, and _that_ was saying something.

But her scowl disappeared as soon as it arrived, and she was back to smiling warmly at me. I could do naught but return it.

“He is at physical therapy,” she informed me, referring to her youngest. One more thing to learn about him. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but Ivar revealed so little to me that no matter how miniscule a detail was, I clung to it. It was like finally being able to scratch an unreachable itch, only to sense another one brewing shortly after. “I will tell him you said goodbye.”

 

“Y’know, he’s not the _nicest_ chap I’ve spoken to.”

Mikka barely spared a moment of quiet for me before going into full rave mode on Ivar. I should have thought it naïve to believe he would keep quiet about him. But I was distracted, still thinking of Aslaug and how she was so kind to me. She hardly even knew me and both times I’d met her, I was less than memorable. Upon our first encounter, I thought she must have overheard the brothers talking about me, especially Hvitserk, who had given Ivar such a hard time the first time he brought me home.

But to call me ambitious… The compliment made me beam. And such a term had me wondering if perhaps Ivar spoke of me more than just in passing.

“Here I am, worried about my cousin and he has the nerve to lecture me for bringing you to that party!”

I couldn’t help but snort. It seemed a very Ivar thing to do. I was instantly curious as to what exactly was said between them.

“I got told off by someone almost a decade younger than me,” he self-deprecated. “And I let him do it!”

“He tends to have that power over people,” I admitted truthfully. “What did he say happened?”

“Just that you got sick on the drive home and he didn’t feel comfortable dropping you off.” He became quiet in contemplation for a moment. “I thought you said you two weren’t together.”

“We _aren’t_ ,” I snapped. I was getting real tired of people making the assumption. Maybe I wouldn’t have minded if I didn’t… _feel_ anything for him. But in this predicament, all it did was leave a sour taste in my mouth.

“I suppose I’m just surprised that someone could be so possessive of their so-called _tutor_.”

I turned in my seat to glare at him. If his sole intention on covering for me was just so he could berate me some more on the drive home, I wanted nothing to do with it. I still had to create a story well enough so my parents wouldn’t throttle me upon returning home. Not to mention, this constant talk of Ivar only strengthened my need to talk to him. It felt weird not having spoken to him since last night, since having his arm wrapped around me and sleeping in his house, near his own bedroom. It felt similar to having a one night stand even if nothing like that had happened.

“Is there something you need to say, Mikka?”

“I’ve been trying to say the guy’s no good but you won’t listen -”

“As opposed to who? Kaleb?” I offered a harsh laugh, earning a double-take from Mikka. “I don’t care what you’ve heard about Ivar. At least last night he was the one to keep me safe after Kaleb decided to _drug_ me.”

There was a quick swerve on the road as his hand slipped on the steering wheel. “ _Huh_?”

“Kaleb spiked my drink with ecstasy or some shit. Ivar knew and he looked after me for the rest of the night. _You_ were too busy trying to pick up girls. _Snobby_ ones at that.” That last part was uncalled for, I had to admit. Mikka was undeserving of it. But it was agonizing having to constantly bat away these suggestive accusations. It didn’t help that I hadn’t realized how possessive _I_ may have sounded until the words left my mouth.

But Mikka didn’t seem bothered by my insult. Instead, his eyes kept darting back and forth between me and the road. His mouth hung open as his brows furrowed deeper and deeper by the second.

“ _What_?” I demanded.

“…I wasn’t going to mention it, but Kaleb’s in the hospital.”

My stomach dropped so hard and so suddenly I felt nauseous. That feeling of familiarity in the back of my mind was tingling again and I struggled to sort out why.

“What?” I asked again, voice much quieter this time.

“I heard about it on Facebook this morning. Everyone’s saying it was a tip-off, but…” Mikka started to explain. “We left just in time – there ended up being a huge drug bust. The party cleared out, but Kaleb got the shit kicked out of him by the time the police showed up.”

Ivar’s words sounded so clearly in my head, he might as well have been in the car.

 _I want Kaleb dealt with_.

“Ivar was with me last night,” I said at once, albeit breathlessly. I couldn’t – I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, though I was bound to sound suspicious coming to Ivar’s defense when Mikka hadn’t even asked the question I knew he was thinking.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk at my response. “What about Ubbe? Or Hvitserk?”

I was afraid to even answer the question.

There had to be an explanation to this. I refused to believe that Ivar would arrange for either of his brothers to put Kaleb in the hospital, especially because of _me_. It was impossible to think that I would mean so much to anyone, let alone Ivar. Maybe they had just been the ones to tip-off the police… I opened my mouth to suggest just that, but Mikka was already speaking.

“Maybe not such a bad thing – I had no idea he did that to you, Lis’... He’s going to be locked up when he comes to.” When he ‘came to’? He must have been in bad shape. “I’m glad you’re okay, but that could’ve turned out a lot worse.”

 

Long after Mikka dropped me off, my head was still spinning from our conversation. Really, would Ivar have done something like that… for me? And if he had - could I still insist on being ignorant to the rumors that surrounded his family? I could rationalize as much as I wanted, but it was slightly suspicious for my ex-boyfriend to have wound up in the hospital after hearing Ivar say something vaguely threatening. Even if Kaleb’s condition wasn’t a direct result of drugging me, something occurred last night and the Lothbroks were responsible.

I could remember the way they walked into that house. The way people tried to avoid them. They had been instigating something, even if I didn’t think it at the time.

By the end of the day, it hardly even mattered to me. The itch to call Ivar only became more unbearable. I was secretly hoping he would have reached out to me by then. Shit, I knew how opposed he was to texting but even a quick message would have sufficed. Anything to relieve me of feeling like I had crossed some sort of line with him in the restaurant… Anything to distract me from connecting dots surrounding Kaleb that may not have even existed. 

Taking a cigarette break outside my parent’s house, I took a seat on the front porch and pulled out my phone. My thumb played idly over the screen until I pulled up Ivar’s number. Not that I knew what kind of schedule he kept - surely enough time had passed that he’d at least been out of physical therapy. It was the one thing keeping my temptation at bay, but in that moment, I could think of nothing else to hold me back... Save for the fact that I didn’t have much of a legitimate reason to call him.

I just wanted to hear his voice.

Ignoring the flutter in my chest, I pressed the green icon over his contact and held the phone to my ear. I pulled two shaky drags from my cigarette as the phone rang and rang… And just as I was certain the call would go to voicemail, Ivar picked up.

“Hello, Lisbet,” he said softly, and immediately I felt my spine curl. I don’t know when things transitioned in such a way that his voice alone pulled this reaction from me. It was like our separation through holiday and his resonating absence when I awoke that afternoon was weighing on me so heavily, it was taking a physical toll on my body.

“Ivar…” I stopped there, pausing while my mind struggled to come up with words. I really had to pull myself together.

I could almost hear Ivar’s confusion on the other end before he asked – “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I just, uh…”

Ivar sighed in my ear and it only made it harder to think.

“You’ve not been drugged again, have you?” He asked dryly. He had such a way of speaking that if I thought about it, I could picture what his facial expression must have been. I imagined that bored and impatient glaze to his eyes, the same way they appeared when he was being patronizing. I was even more certain that if he wasn’t busy, he was examining his nails like I was wasting his time. But I didn’t care if I was. Ivar was still making me smile.

“You’re sounding like you did last night.”

“No, no, I… I just wanted to say -”

“Are you thanking me this time?” He interrupted. I was trying so hard to focus on words that I was frustrated at my own laughter.

“Yes,” I groaned, sobering up. “Thank you, Ivar. Really.”

He was quiet for so long that I had to look at the screen of my phone to make sure we hadn’t gotten disconnected. But the call was still active.

“That’s three you owe me now, Lisbet.” He finally said. His voice had dropped an octave and I hummed into the phone. I should have expected a wise remark.  “I will see you Monday.”

Ivar ended the call before I could say goodbye.

 

 

The rest of the week might as well have been a blur. I was excited to get back to class in preparations for final exams, even more so to see Ivar again. I know I kept telling myself that it was solely physical attraction I held for him. That he was my friend, or as close to a friend as someone like Ivar could be. With the majority of our interactions revolving around schoolwork and studying – something we both thrive on – it was easy to think that my liking toward him went no further than having that in common. I thought highly of myself when it came to my smarts, and it felt good to be able to share that with someone.

And I was unsure of when that shifted, but it so clearly had. The week without him seemed like withdrawal. On most days, Ivar was a grump. He had an attitude that was hard to deal with; he was snippy and condescending. But over time he became less so toward me.

The mystery surrounding him only made matters worse. I craved to know more about him; to know what was going on behind his steely eyes.

By the time I was sat in class on Monday morning, my smile was impossible to stop as Ivar entered. He was always a few minutes late to classes since he required more time and less crowding to get around campus. I knew this, and yet there was still a rush of excitement inside me as he lumbered in and took his usual seat two rows down from me. So much for pulling myself together…

He was a distraction throughout the day in each class I shared with him to the point that I was starting to think that any feelings I had for him should be eschewed.

But almost predictably, I strolled out of my last class and found Cris’s town cab parked at the curb. Ivar sat in the back waiting for me. There was no hesitation as I climbed in beside him.

I smiled at him. “How was the rest of your week?”

Ivar looked at me like I had interrupted something. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, smile falling right off my face. Back to the routine it was.

Maybe it would be easier to deal with him if he was unpleasant.

 

We were back in his room and it seemed like no time had gone by since our last session. We trudged through practice exams for Calculus, sitting side by side so we could use each other’s work to check ourselves. It was nice, the feeling of falling back in sync with one another. I welcomed Ivar’s presence, even if it meant having to endure the usual pull of him, the usual temptation of watching him instead of focusing on work. It was just as frustrating as it always had been, but it was still the standard formula and I was happy to have that back.

It was baffling how a measly week could have taken this much of a toll on me. I much preferred my constant rationalizing over his effect on me. This current inner conflict seemed much more arduous.

I couldn’t keep my thoughts from drifting back to the night of the party. To Kaleb. I wondered if he was out of the hospital yet as it had been a few days… And of course, that led me to question for the umpteenth time whether or not Ivar truly had a part in it.

 _Mostly_ against my will, I caught myself staring at him once more. Trying to picture the man who sat beside me as the image that everyone painted him in. I knew he was somewhat capable of violence. I’d seen him knock a student out before. Though that had at least been in self-defense.

“You’re doing it again.” He said suddenly, interrupting my train of thought.

“Fuck,” I cursed aloud, not bothering for once to hide what I’d been doing. Another thing that needed to come to an end. “Sorry.”

Ivar dropped his pencil and cracked his knuckles before leaning back to survey me. There was a twist to his lips as he tilted his head. Finally, he waved his hand as if beckoning something.

“Go on.”

A single brow rose on my forehead as I stared, not understanding. But he folded his hands over his lap and waited. A mischievous look danced in his eyes in a way that had me shying from him. I didn’t even want to ask him what he meant.

“Tell me you’ve missed me.”

“No,” I said, a little too quickly and at a little too high of a pitch.

A smirk grew on Ivar’s face. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear while his tongue curled over his bottom lip. I half expected him to remove his blazer next – each of his mannerisms seemed solely for my benefit.

“You can admit it,” he pushed with a nod of his head. “It would certainly explain why you have been staring at me all day.”

The bluntness of his words had me bristling, and I turned away from him; pulled my hair over my shoulder to hide the blush growing on my face. I should have known to reign in my ogling during classes. But I had eyes – I wasn’t blind. I _had_ missed him and the sudden thrust of having to see him all day, compared to not seeing him at all, left me exposed. My attention span to studies – while oftentimes impressive – was not entirely infallible. Being alone with him now and in such close proximity only exacerbated that.

He just _had_ to rub my face in it.

“I didn’t miss you,” I muttered in rebellion. Then before I could stop myself, added - “I hardly even know you.”

I couldn’t see Ivar to know he was leaning over until I sensed him looming just beyond my shoulder.

“Does that bother you, Lisbet?”

He was playing with me again. I could tell from the suggestive tone to his voice; he practically _purred_ in my ear, making me shiver. It almost made me want to question if _he_ had missed _me_ – his lack of ability to watch me fluster during break had his game stronger now. I whipped my head around to glare at him, momentarily faltering upon seeing how close he was to me.

“With the amount of time I spend with you – yes.” I couldn’t help but admit honestly. “Are you saying you’re not at all curious about me?”

Ivar’s gaze hardened, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he leaned back in his chair. He clearly hadn’t expected this to be my reaction. I watched him for a moment, disappointment and regret grew with each second he left the question unanswered.

“Why were Ubbe and Hvitserk at that party?” I blurted. _Fuck_. I shouldn’t have said that - the curiosity was nagging to much in my head.

The look on his face turned more scornful. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, I -” I shrugged at my own lack of segue. It was simply one of the many mysteries that I craved an answer for, but I didn’t want to delve into that. It would become an interrogation and I suspected Ivar wouldn’t be so forthcoming. “There was some sort of… rivalry there or something.”

I could feel Ivar’s eyes narrow on me as I looked away. I wondered if he remembered what he had said in front of me – the threat, the mention of their territory – or if he questioned if _I_ remembered it or not. I couldn’t make eye contact, not wanting him to see that I knew more than I was letting on. Or at least that I was suspect. He could read me too easily.

“Did they have something to do with what happened to my ex-boyfriend?” I was more direct with the question before chancing a small look at Ivar. I was surprised to find his heated expression light up with a small smile. He set his forearms on the desk so he could be closer and look at me straight on. A simple enough gesture, but I suddenly felt like this was turning into a confrontation as his blue eyes appeared to glitter.

“Are you unhappy that the man who would drug you wound up in the hospital?”

So, at the very least, Ivar knew about Kaleb’s predicament. I supposed there were more ways than Facebook to find out about that. But still – it made me want to keep pressing.

“I didn’t say that, but -”

“Then I’m not sure where there seems to be a problem.” He gave a tiny shake of his head as if that settled the matter.

I huffed; there hadn’t really been a problem until Ivar started avoiding the question. I didn’t care that Kaleb was in the hospital. I didn’t wish bad things on him, but whatever the circumstances surrounding his beating were, he was clearly fucking with the wrong people… _And_ he drugged me - perhaps it had been what he deserved.

The thought made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t accustomed to passing down judgement so easily.

Ivar still stared at me and there was a moment of eye contact where we were both so clearly trying to see inside each other’s minds. Usually this type of proximity would have me backing down, but I was getting frustrated by him. I didn’t appreciate that he was insulting my intelligence by trying to lie to me.

“Did _you_ have something to do with it?” I dared to ask, albeit hardly above a whisper.

Something flashed behind his eyes, but he was quick to contain it. “I was with you all night,” he reasoned. Then a smirk played on his lips as he rolled his jaw back and forth. “I would have thought you’d remember that.”

I smacked my pencil on the desk before crossing my arms over my chest. I wanted to slap him for playing dirty.

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t tell your brothers to do it,” I insisted. My tone was turning more accusatory now. “You certainly have a way of getting people to do as you say.”

“Lisbet…” He murmured softly, reaching out with his hand, fingers outstretched as if meaning to touch me. I was so taken off guard by the gesture that I didn’t react until fingertips just barely grazed my cheek.

I snatched his wrist and set his hand on the desk with more force than I intended to. The sound of my pencil hitting the floor sounded loudly through the growing tension between us. My grip was so tight, I could feel his pulse thrumming just beneath my thumb. I regretted the action instantly.

Looking up, I found his eyes boring holes into my hand. I winced, spine curling, once he directed the glare at me.

“You want to get to know me, huh?” His voice lowered till a growl mixed with his words; the transition occurring inside of him was daunting. Ivar looked at me like he did that day in the car, meaning to intimidate me… and it was working.

In a second, he tore his hand out of my grip. I had barely readjusted when his hand shot toward me and he wrapped his fingers around my bicep. The grip was so tight that it hurt, and I whimpered as he yanked me in his direction. My chair tipped on two legs and I would’ve fallen from it if I hadn’t already been so close to him.

Ivar kept tugging so that I had to brace myself on the desk with my free arm, or fall into his lap. There was hardly a breath between our faces.

“Your ex- _boyfriend_ is nothing but a petty drug dealer. He is lucky that is all that happened to him.” I struggled to look at anywhere but him. He was pure menace as his fist clenched tighter around my arm; my teeth grit together to keep from moaning in pain, harder still when he gave me a quick jerk. “In fact - I am disappointed now to think you had _ever_ even been with him. I expected more from you… But I guess you are just another _dumb girl_.”

“Ivar, stop -” I hissed, pulling uselessly against his wrist. “- You’re hurting me.”

He practically snarled as he shoved me back into my seat.

My heart raced while I watched him in utter disbelief. Ivar’s own chest was heaving as he collected himself. His jaw trembled but his penetrating eyes were unwavering. I attempted to rub out the throbbing in my arm, but I was certain he had bruised me. I was appalled – not knowing if every bit of acid that dripped from his tongue was truthful or not, but sure that it was every bit his intent to scare me.

I _was_ scared. I was scared to think of what else he was capable of. To imagine how much farther than what he’d done to Kaleb he could go. And if he could do any of those things to _me_.

His last words felt like a punch to the stomach.

“Just because you have a _stupid_ crush doesn’t mean you will _ever_ get whatever _the fuck_ it is you want from me.”

I almost tripped over myself when I shot out of the chair. My hands shook as I shoved my belongings together in a blurry haze. Papers wrinkled and I probably bent the spine of one of my texts as I threw everything in my backpack. I spared no second glance as I turned and left Ivar, slamming the door behind me.

If I hadn’t been so angry, I may have cried. No one had ever spoken to me like that in my life. Nor handled me so aggressively. But red-faced and heartbeat pounding in my ears, I stormed through the house, manic enough to startle Ubbe who’d been lounging in the living room and watching television with some blonde woman.

He opened his mouth to speak, concern etched on his face, but I was quick to interrupt him. “Can you drive me back to campus, please?”

 

The ride back was painfully quiet. More than once, I felt an outburst brimming within my skin. I wanted to scream and rave at Ubbe, rant about his pigheaded brother and how disgusted he made me feel. But I stayed quiet. Fearful that once I opened my mouth I wouldn’t stop until I became physically ill.

Ubbe peered at me curiously but didn’t broach the subject until we were parked in the courtyard of my building.

“What did he do?” He asked carefully, and in such a way that it was clear he knew what Ivar was like. They all did. I even understood Hvitserk now, alluding to Ivar being troublesome. I felt so stupid. “Are you all right?”

It was painful to look at Ubbe. He was always so nice to me and I felt like his concern was genuine. But even as I met his eye, I realized I didn’t actually know any of them. Perhaps I should have listened to every rumor I had ever heard about them. Perhaps they were all bad like Ivar. I had been foolish in letting myself become so consumed by this family.

The only thing I was certain of in that moment was that I regretted ever becoming Ivar’s tutor.

 

 

The rest of the week was agonizing. Continually being forced to see Ivar in class was a cruel punishment. The bruise he left on my arm throbbed each time I dared to look at him. Worse was that he acted as if I didn’t exist. Not once did he look or even breathe in my direction. I was half curious to see if he expected our sessions to go on as normal – he was stubborn enough for me to entertain the idea – but when I’d rush out of class before he would even rise from his seat, no phone call followed like it usually did. There was not a lick of disappointment where I thought it might sting.

Two weeks’ worth of final exams was not much easier. It was just like the first time I tried to study without Ivar. I couldn’t focus. I became too distracted and had to break at multiple intervals just to get through one subject. At least the competition we had kept me in check on my work, but it was evident I became too dependent on it. Even still, I welcomed my anger at Ivar because without it, I would yearn for his company.

I was still so _angry_. A tiny part of me became petty, hoping he was having just as hard of a time concentrating as I did. Hoping there was some part of him that regretted what he’d done and ached to apologize to me. I liked to think I would shoot him down if he did, but in reality, I doubted it would be so easy.

If he felt anything at all, it never showed. He infuriated me through each exam, finishing his tests at least twenty minutes before I did every time. I knew I shouldn’t have taken it personally, but with every insult he made of my intelligence, I felt like the very act of him finishing before me was just an extra dig at my pride.

The only soothing aspect of my life came when I received top marks for all of my exams. It was the first time I was able to fully smile and feel almost like myself again.

Even Sofia could tell something was wrong. She noticed I no longer spent time with Ivar but was considerate enough not to mention it. We spent a relaxing last night in our dorm, sharing wine as we packed our things to move out. I allowed her to gossip like she usually did, even found it more and more entertaining as we killed off one bottle and moved on to the second. Regardless of all that happened, it was a peaceful way to end the term.

 

Back at home, business was same as usual. I managed to get a hold of the job I held for two consecutive summers prior, working at an old, eclectic bookshop in town. I had a well enough relationship with the owner that she gladly invited me back, even raised my pay a little.

The next time I saw Mikka, he had tried to pry into how things worked out with Ivar. I told him little; not wanting to receive an ‘I told you so’, or even more judgement. Plus, we’d been in my parent’s home at the time, and I didn’t want them knowing about any sort of relationship I had with Ivar. I’d heard my father talk about the Lothbroks before and not in the most respectable way. My father was an Attorney who often dealt with money claims; Ragnar’s – now Aslaug’s business -  often had people accusing them of laundering money. They always turned out clean upon investigation, but Father remained suspicious of them.

Though as it turned out, my fraternizing with their family couldn’t remain secret for long.

One night, I was helping with dinner while Father watched the news. I hadn’t been paying attention until I heard him try to discuss the topic with my mother.

“They’re still going to deny that they run a criminal organization. _Still_?” I didn’t know what he was referring to, but I couldn’t ignore the feeling of dread upon his next remark. “How many bodies will it take to rack up before they figure it out?”

I rushed around the corner to see what he was referring to and my blood ran cold.

Her picture filled the television screen. The words ‘Circumstances Unknown’ were emblazoned as a caption. Headlines scrolled beneath in flashing text. 

Aslaug Lothbrok was dead.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gahhh so many mixed feelings about this chapter! Hope you guys enjoy it :) Thanks for reading!

I watched the news all night until I nearly fell asleep on the couch. Unfortunately, regardless of how many reports circulated on just about every station, there was hardly any information on what happened to Aslaug. All they confirmed was that foul play was involved.

I was in utter disbelief. It’d been a few weeks since I’d seen her but… How? How could this happen? Who could’ve done this? She was so vibrant and alive, it was like her presence still resonated with me. Even without talking to Ivar, I still often thought about her. Two whole occasions had I seen her and yet she left such an impression on me.

A pool of regret and grief lingered in my stomach. I would never get to have that dinner with her, I would never be able to get to know her, when I knew I could’ve learned so much from her.

It chilled me to the core to imagine what her sons were going through. Ivar especially. I knew he doted on her even if he wasn’t open about it. Out of all the brothers, her relationship was strongest with him. Jealousy practically stank from Sigurd and I knew he resented Ivar for it.

Ivar must have been devastated. It hadn’t been so long since Ragnar died. I couldn’t fathom it – losing both parents, and so closely together.

My hand shook as I picked up my phone, instincts telling me to call him. I stared at his contact, thumb trembling as too many emotional conflicts coursed through me. I was still upset by what he did to me. He had frightened me, and I don’t think he could’ve been anymore insulting.

“Do you know that family?” My father suddenly asked. Startled, I looked up to find him standing in the hallway and dressed for bed. I had been sat in front of the television for hours; now the lights were off and I stayed in the dark, not having moved from my spot.

“I suppose.” I said vaguely. I knew he would disapprove, but I was too tired and upset to have a _talk_ and provide an explanation. “I tutored one of the sons last term.”

Father grunted and strolled into the living room, shaking his head at the television. His height casted an even darker shadow over my frame.

“Do you dislike them as much as I do?” He said it lightheartedly, as if trying to make a joke.

I didn’t appreciate it. “Aslaug was kind.”

“Aslaug was, yes.” He didn’t have to clarify that he meant the rest of the family _wasn’t_. “Don’t watch too much of this mess. Get some sleep.”

 

It would be another hour before I listened. I sat through several commercial breaks, flipping through channels, hoping to at least get some semblance of information that would ease me enough to sleep. But still nothing.

By the time I lay in bed, rain was pounding on the roof and it did nothing to help my restlessness. It was considered early morning by the time I felt my eyelids become heavy. I pulled out my phone one last time. Ivar’s contact was still pulled up, not having used it since. Perhaps my tiredness was to blame as I tapped on the message icon.

_‘Please let me know you’re okay… If you need anything.’_

I sent it before I could change my mind.

 

 

The following day was filled with more haze that I was growing so accustomed to. I spent the afternoon at the bookshop; it was a slow day because the rain hadn’t let up just yet. Oddly fitting, given the circumstance. I busied myself stocking the shelves and setting out a few books for myself to read.

Sofia heard about Aslaug and filled my inbox with texts until I had to tell her to back off - that I didn’t know anything, and that I still wasn’t talking to Ivar. I hadn’t even remembered texting him the night before until I opened my messages and saw it sitting in my outbox. My innards flipped in my abdomen, though I wasn’t the least bit surprised he hadn’t answered. Even if we _were_ communicating he probably still wouldn’t have gotten back to me.

After dinner that night, I took a shower with every intention of dressing into some pyjamas and curling up in bed with one of my new books. It was close to nine o’clock, early for me, but I wasn’t in the mood for much socializing these days.

It appeared Ivar had different plans for me.

Still wrapped in a towel, I reached for my phone to charge it when I noticed the unread message I had. I almost felt sick when I saw Ivar’s name on the screen.

_‘Come over.’_

My mouth fell open at the text.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? ‘Come over’?

I hadn’t heard from Ivar in _weeks_ and this was the message he sent me? It was _so typically_ Ivar that I didn’t know whether to laugh or rip my hair out. I realized then that it would be purely fantasy to ever think he would apologize to me for what he did – for _anything_ he did. Ivar was the type that no matter his wrongdoing, he would steamroll over it until it was forgotten. There was probably not _one_ thing –

I paused and took a deep breath in attempt to calm down. His mother was dead and I wanted an apology? I was slightly disappointed at my own lack of perspective. The grief and anguish he must have been going through was not comparable to my own bitterness.

Perhaps it was a good sign that in his time of need, he’d request my presence. That could mean more than an apology anyway, couldn’t it?

That seemed too easy. And Ivar was rarely that uncomplicated. I should simply text him back that it wouldn’t be possible. The Estate was about an hour away, it would be late by the time I got there as is.

My phone beeped while I’d been thinking.

_‘You can spend the night.’_

My stomach plummeted and my heart fluttered. As usual, it was like Ivar could read my mind. Sense my train of thought before overriding it and making a decision for me.

 _Fuck_.

This predicament was all too familiar. It was just like the time, months ago now, when our Professor asked me to tutor Ivar. The same wariness I ultimately felt and tied in with the same guilt of trying to understand what Ivar was going through. And I regretted it, hadn’t I? My heart was softening. I replayed our fight over and over in my head, saying to myself – _See? This is why you must stay away from him._ But my resolve was fading.

Against my better judgement, I yearned to be there for him.

 

The rain cleared out by the time I pulled into the driveway. I weaved along in the dark, following the gravel until the massive house came into view. There were at least a dozen cars already parked out front; mostly the same sort of town cabs that Cris drove, but also more expensive brands like Mercedes and even a Ferrari. Of course, I should have expected more visitors, more family.

I parked my Sedan next to a Tesla feeling relieved that I decided to at least dress nicely. My black skirt was floor-length and though I usually wore it casually, a purple blouse made it appear more formal.

It took a moment for me to get out of the car. I had to mentally prepare myself to see the Lothbrok’s again, and in such a delicate situation. I milked my cigarette to the very end, grabbed my overnight bag and hustled out.

I steeled myself as I walked past a group of women who crowded the front stoop. They were all crying and smoking cigarettes and I tried not to ogle as I let myself into the house.

The foyer was just as crowded – a black mass of bodies, all in hushed conversation. More cigarette smoking. I didn’t bother questioning when the decision was made to allow smoking inside.

Hardly any of them spared me a glance as I trudged through them and I was grateful for it, already feeling like an intruder. Just as I always did.

The rest of the house was no less packed with people; I even noticed traffic going up and down the staircases. I weaved among them, breezed through the kitchen that was positively _stocked_ with various dishes of food and an endless supply of wine, then wound up in the dining room.

It appeared so different now, with the lights dimmed and an enormous portrait of Aslaug displayed at the center of the lengthy table. Without fail, the picture of her was beautiful. It was a close-up; her golden hair was plaited atop her head like a crown. She looked like a Queen. Her magnificent smile gleamed with her perfect, shiny white teeth. The portrait was propped up and nearly buried in flowers, ornaments and candles. Two large bowls sat on either side of the massive frame and brimmed with cash. Just from a glance, I could count thousands upon thousands of kroner.

My reverie was broken when a hand touched my shoulder. I turned to find Ubbe, and a large smile split open on my face. I was surprised at how happy I was to see him. My smile was quick to fade, however. He appeared so downcast in his black suit and though he smiled back, the brightness of it was minimal in comparison.

“Ubbe, I’m -” The words were cut from me as he pulled me into a warm hug. He squeezed me tight and I could do naught but return it.

“Thank you for coming,” he murmured above me. “It is good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” I said truthfully.

“If I’m being honest, I must say I didn’t think we’d see you again,” he went on to confess. He released me from his embrace but his hands steadied on my shoulders. “I’m happy to see I was wrong.”

I winced a little under his gaze. I was so fond of Ubbe and with our last goodbye having been so strained, it was comforting to hear him say those words. They made me feel a little better about my presence here.

“Did Ivar… Did he say -” My mouth bobbed open and closed, teetering around broaching the subject.

“No.” Ubbe shook his head. I let out a sigh of relief; at least Ivar had saved me from that embarrassment. “But Mother berated him for days, certain whatever it was was his doing. She was very fond of you.”

I couldn’t help but smile again. “I was fond of her, too. I’m… I’m so sorry, Ubbe.” I wanted to hug him again but it looked as if he was using his hold on my shoulders to keep stable. His eyes fell from my face and I saw something dark pass through them; his jaw set and his entire appearance seemed to change. It was a flickering reminder of how each of these brothers had different sides to them that I was so totally ignorant of.

The look disappeared almost as soon as it arrived. Ubbe sniffed and raised his head. “Come. Ivar must see you.”

Instantly, my heart raced and I hardly had a chance to respond when Ubbe took me by the hand and whisked me away.

He led me to the sitting room – a room which I never frequented. It was no less upscale than the rest of the house, with plush couches and loveseats and a large afghan rug. The windows were near floor to ceiling in size on either side of a set of doors leading to the backyard, and expensive tapestries covered most of the walls. Lastly, an enormous fireplace was on the opposite end of the room from where I stood.

Ivar sat in front of it in his wheelchair, preceding a lengthy line of all men. I presumed they were paying respects of some sort, but the sight of it was unusual to me. I felt like I was… Well, I felt like I was watching something out of _the Godfather_. A gentleman, probably in his forties, had taken a knee and also had Ivar’s hand in his. His salt and pepper hair was braided three quarters of the way down his spine, and his exposed forearms were covered in tattoos. They seemed to be having an intimate discussion, but Ivar looked positively miserable. His free hand rubbed into his temple and he occasionally sent pleading looks to the very tall, bald man who stood loyally at his side.

“Trying to get their foot in,” Ubbe whispered into my ear. “Greedy cunts. They expect he’s going to take over -” He corrected himself. “- Be President soon.” I observed more intently, watching Ivar endure getting his shoulder squeezed as the man rose to his feet. He turned to retreat, and offered Ubbe a smile. There were tattoos on his face as well, and he had at least two golden teeth that I could see. Ubbe returned the gesture but deflected conversation, still talking in my ear. “We knew this would happen. Tried to play it off that as I’m the eldest, I would be taking over, but… As you can see, that didn’t work out.”

“Wouldn’t that make more sense?” I asked, momentarily tearing my eyes off of Ivar.

Ubbe cocked his head. “Father was very vocal about wanting Ivar to take his place someday. Of course, we didn’t expect this to be so soon. I never wanted the responsibility anyway…”

“And what about school?”

“I suppose he will have to decide which he wants more.” Ubbe looked at me as if thinking I asked only out of selfish reason. It was entirely misplaced – I was genuinely concerned over the choice Ivar would come to make. His education meant the world to him. I couldn’t imagine a day where he would drop out of Uni to work for the company. But the company was not something we ever discussed. I didn’t know much about it besides what was publicly reported on or whatever I’d overheard of my father’s discussions.

“That’s a lot of pressure,” I murmured, more to myself than to Ubbe.

“You’ve arrived at a perfect time,” he agreed. “Let’s save him.”

I was glad Ubbe was so eager to lead me around in this fashion because I didn’t have the strength for it. I became a shy shadow trailing behind him as he delivered me to Ivar like a gift. The next man in line – similar looking to the previous with tattoos and jewels, but blonde hair – had been mid-sentence when Ivar shushed him upon our approach.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ubbe said. “I assumed you might’ve wanted to know Lisbet is here.”

It was hard to gauge Ivar’s reaction. He was so clearly ridden with anguish that even if he smiled, it would’ve appeared solemn. His blue eyes seemed clouded over as they traveled up the length of me before settling on my face. He looked beautiful albeit exhausted. His hair hung loose – it was getting longer now – and draped over the top of his silk clad shoulders. The blouse was black and snug, and he wore matching trousers. I gave my all to steel my expression, keep the feelings I had at bay, even though I longed to embrace him.

He looked up at the man he’d been speaking to - “Perhaps my brother can continue entertaining you?” His tone was dry and he pursed his lips, making it clear that declining would not be an option.

I hadn’t even realized Ubbe was still holding my hand until he let it go. He took over Ivar’s position before the man could even respond, and with a nod of his head, Ivar gestured in the direction of his bedroom. I dutifully followed, too stunned, wondering how it came to be that I was back in this house again, making the same path to Ivar’s room I so often used to.

Once we were alone, the silence was deafening. There was only a few feet between us and for a couple of minutes, we simply stared at each other. Several times, it appeared as if he would say something; his lips would part, then close and he looked like he was frustrated with me. I didn’t dare to say a word. There was no way to read him, especially now. I feared he would reject me the same way he did on our last encounter. And more so, I feared how devastating that would feel a second time around.

But slowly, I could see his composure start to crack. I wondered when he was last given a moment to himself, or if he’d been forced to be swarmed left and right by visitors who were already worrying themselves about the trading company. Ivar’s still swollen eyes started to become pink and he blinked rapidly. I finally gave in when the blush spread up his neck; he was evidently trying his hardest to keep from breaking down. I dropped my bag and closed our distance, crouching to throw my arms around him. My fingers wove into his hair so I could clutch him to me even better, and I squeezed so tight I might as well have been on his lap.

He tensed at first, but I could feel him relax in my hold. “I’m so, _so_ _sorry_ , Ivar…” I wished I had something better to say. Something other than what I was sure he had heard too many times by now. Even still, his arms wrapped securely around my waist. He reciprocated my embrace. I felt dampness against my neck and merely squeezed him tighter. It was the most intimate physical touch we had ever exchanged, and it broke my heart that it had to be under such misery.

I was torn between keeping quiet or asking him what happened, but I didn’t want to pry. After a short while, it didn’t seem to matter. Ivar was soon cursing into my ear.

“It was that fucking _bitch_ , Lagertha. We know it.”

I blinked, frowning at the familiar name. Another one almost about as reputable as his own. Ragnar’s ex-wife. “Lagertha – but – what do you mean?”

“You’re _smarter_ than that.” Ivar retorted, voice thick.

My hold loosened around him only so I could see his face. Tears streaked from his reddened eyes, and they were like a storm, wild with rage as his jaw trembled.

“You’ve been around enough to know. I’ve _seen_ you trying to piece things together.” He sniffed unceremoniously and I could feel his hands clench into my sides. “You _know_ we are connected, you just didn’t want to believe it.”

I said nothing. There was nothing _to_ say. Only in the past few weeks did I come to terms with the fact that his family _had_ to be in the Mob. After everything, there was no other explanation that made sense. Yet it hadn’t felt so true until he announced it freely in my face.

Ivar paused to leave room for a reaction, tears still spilling down his cheeks. When I stayed quiet, he continued.

“She wanted Mother’s power. I _never_ trusted her even though everyone else wanted to accept she was content with her territory.” He dragged his arms from my waist, only to clench his fists over the arms of his chair. “She waited until we were vulnerable. Took advantage of - of my father’s death. She’ll be dealt with the _same way his killer was_.”

A chill ran down my spine and it was a struggle not to react this time. It was one thing to accept that the Lothbrok’s were indeed connected to the Mob, but Ivar was confessing murder to me… A most brutal one at that. I could still remember the details – Aelle having had his skin stripped from his body… I was holding onto a dangerous man. I looked into his eyes, trying to imagine him and his brothers committing such a horrific act.

And now on his word, Lagertha would find the same fate. He had sworn the threat so certainly that I was bound to believe him. Deep inside, a part of me _knew_ he would kill this woman.

My mind was spinning and I had the oddest sensation of both fear and calm. Any normal person would leave now. Would turn their back on this family. I had become too close, could have been putting myself in danger.

And I didn’t care.

It was the first time I experienced a revelation I couldn’t fully understand. But in that moment, all I wanted was to quell Ivar’s sorrow. I hugged him again, tightening my arms over his shoulders. I held him as he cried and felt protective of him, even felt a surge of anger toward the person who dared to put him in so much pain.

 

As hours passed, the night didn’t become any less surreal. Oddly enough, I came to discover that archery was a family hobby. My first thought was how random such a thing was, but as I roamed outside into the backyard and found Ubbe and Hvitserk among a line of competitors, bows raised, I realized it was so utterly _Lothbrok_.

The property was lined with torches lighting their way to the wood-fashioned targets several yards from the deck. I took a seat on the steps to look on among the small crowd that had gathered, a fresh glass of whiskey in my hand to warm my belly. The present company sure knew how to handle their booze. I wasn’t as enthusiastic to follow suit, however, I did nurse my third glass and welcomed its ability to keep the edge off.

In the dim light, I could see their arrows never fail to hit the targets each time. I admired their ability to entertain themselves in such dark times. In my own family, we had never lost someone so young or so unexpected, nor by the hands of another human being. I didn’t know what was predictable in situations like these.

…That’s when the yelling started.

At first, I couldn’t tell what the commotion was - thought it was general ruckus as there had been plenty of drinking and it wouldn’t have been the only time I overheard a rowdy outburst that night. Then I noticed heads were turning back to the porch and there was a clear voice that boomed over all other noise –

“ _Shut your mouth!_ ”

I instantly recognized it as Ivar’s, and rose warily from the steps. Others were doing the same, encroaching around the deck to take witness.

Before I could even see what was happening, I heard Sigurd’s laughter as he cackled like a mad fool. By the time I reached a clearing between bodies I saw Ivar sat at the table, visibly trying his _hardest_ to restrain himself - a look of fury on his face unlike any I had ever seen on him. His hand shook as he sucked down a cigarette. Sigurd stood not far from him, leering over him with a bottle swinging from his hand, reeking with ill intent though he wore a smile on his face.

“C’mon, _Boneless_ , you can’t take it?” He laughed some more and teetered in Ivar’s direction. “Does it break that _putrid_ little heart of yours? Knowing that she _hated_ you just as much as we do?”

The bald man I’d seen earlier pushed through the crowd, stepping forward to try and take hold of Sigurd’s arm. “Enough – that’s _enough_ , Sigurd.”

Sigurd ripped his arm from the man’s grasp and dared to take another step toward Ivar. I feared the closer he got, the more likely he was to come to physical harm. A body brushed past me – Ubbe, followed soon after by Hvitserk.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ubbe demanded; ever the voice of reason.

Sigurd continued to ignore everyone but Ivar – zeroed in on him like a target. “She didn’t ever love Father, and she never loved any of us -” His voice grew louder as he slurred through each word. “– Least of all _you!_ ”

Ivar crushed his cigarette on the ashtray next to him. From my position I, could see his chest heave. His eyes had grown wide and the very _look_ he directed at Sigurd was enough to make _me_ take a cautious step back. Sigurd must have been completely sotted to act like this.

“Green doesn’t suit you well, Sigurd,” Ivar muttered through grit teeth. I could tell it was his last effort to get Sigurd to back off – but all he did was angrily slam his bottle onto the table.

“ _She didn’t even want you!_ ”

There was a chorus of gasps, including my own, that was quickly drowned out by Ivar’s screaming. He lurched forward and grabbed Sigurd by the arm, pulled him back in his direction and used the momentum to swing his fist into his face.

Stunned silence followed as Sigurd dropped to the deck like a stone. Ivar flung himself from his wheelchair to land on top of him, delivered a second, then third punch onto Sigurd’s head. He reared back to aim a fourth when Ubbe finally intervened and snatched his wrist. Ivar gave much resistance, snarling and thrashing like an animal – tried to hit Sigurd with his left fist until Ubbe gave him a good heave and tugged him backwards.

I was certain Sigurd was unconscious, but then his legs moved sluggishly and a groan echoed across the porch. Hvitserk went to his aid and kept doubling back, looking at Ivar as if expecting him to attack again at any moment.

“Floki -” Ubbe muttered, struggling to keep Ivar upright, “- Help Hvitserk get Sigurd upstairs. _Now_.”

Floki, the bald man, slid his arm underneath one armpit, Hvitserk likewise on the other, and they hoisted him up from the deck. Perched on their shoulders, the blood was visible as it seeped down half of his face.  

Only when they disappeared inside did Ivar start to calm down enough for Ubbe to assist him back into his wheelchair. I could see his hands were still shaking – right hand bloodied even - though he was quick to light up another cigarette. Ubbe crouched on one knee at his side, tried to hold Ivar’s face in his hands and express what I assumed were comforting words… But Ivar batted Ubbe away, scowled past him as he tried to smoke.

I turned my back on the brothers to sit back down and take a deep, calming breath. Light a cigarette of my own. It was odd to think I had been so anxious to see these boys again, only to feel like I was seeing too much. That I was being thrust into this world that I didn’t think I had any business belonging in. But if I continued to insist on being there for Ivar, something told me that meant I had to be for the rest of the brothers as well. I already disliked Sigurd, but after witnessing that attack, I was unsure if that was something I’d ever be content with.

 

When it was time to retire, I found myself knocking on Ivar’s door. It was well past midnight now. I half expected him to tell me to fuck off, but I needed my belongings and I’d left my overnight bag in his bedroom earlier… I _may_ have also wanted to check up on him one last time.  I hadn’t seen him touch a lick of food or drink all night, nothing that wasn’t inside his pack of cigarettes, and it worried me.

I was surprised to hear him invite me in.

It was almost regretful - his back was to me as he sat on the farthest side of the bed from where I stood, and was amid undressing. I froze in the doorway, watching his blouse fall loose from his shoulders as he progressed with its buttons. This was possibly the worst time for me to ogle at Ivar, but I couldn’t look away, especially when the lamp on the nightstand perfectly illuminated his tattoos as he pulled off the shirt.

It was a tree of some sort – but _more_ so - stretching over the entire expanse of his muscular back. Intricate roots weaved over his lower half, and leaves and branches expanded beautifully up and over his shoulder blades. There were symbols, too. Ones I didn’t recognize; orbs and spirals that fused with the tree trunk on either side of his ribs.

Two ravens perched at the very top of him, one on each shoulder. Their wings outstretched so that the feathers trailed down his triceps and deltoids, and their beaks pointed inward, directed at his spine at the nape of his neck. The deep contrast in shadowing was beautifully stark against Ivar’s pale skin.

“Will you close the door?” Ivar asked, snapping me out of my trance.

“S-sorry.” I shut it at once and tore my eyes away from his body. Instead found my bag on the floor and started rifling through it for my change of clothes. “Just wanted to get my stuff for -”

“The guestrooms are all full. You can share my bed.”

Ivar said it so nonchalantly, I almost asked him to repeat himself. It was probably not the greatest idea, but he was already busying himself with folding up his blouse, then pulled on an undershirt. I had to look away again when it became evident he was going for his pants next. I was unappreciative of his lack of care for privacy, but I surmised there wasn’t much he gave a shit about at the moment.

I excused myself anyway, moving to the bathroom to change into my t-shirt and shorts to sleep in. I didn’t even bother flicking the lights on, but took my time stripping and dressing again. By the time I went back into the room, Ivar was already stretched across the bed, back against the headboard, clad in sweatpants now.

“How’s your hand?” I couldn’t help but ask.

He stayed quiet for a moment as I crossed the room and set my things back in my bag. “It will be fine.”

“May I see?” I don’t know why I was bothering. I felt this nagging need to look after him, though I’m sure he would protest anything of the kind. I rationalized that if anyone were to look at it, it ought to be me. I had training in first aid in lieu of my studies and if a joint needed to be reset, it was better to find out as early as possible.

Ivar simply watched me as I climbed onto the bed. I thanked the whiskey for keeping me steady, knowing that I would have been trembling if otherwise. I had never felt more intimate with Ivar than on this night. And now I was to sleep with him… I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that this was the state of our ‘reunion’, our fight having still lingered somewhere in the back of my mind.

I held out my hand expectantly and although a scowl set on his face, begrudgingly, he offered me his own.

I inspected it carefully. He had since washed it, but there were clean splits in each of his major knuckles save for his thumb. The bruising had already begun, however, the lack of serious swelling showed that there was no break or dislocation. I let our fingers linger together for a little too long as I admired the structure of his hand before finally dropping it.

Turning on the bed, I leaned back to rest on my side among the pillows and watched him. His eyes were downcast and dejected, and as ever, I wished to know his thoughts.

“What are you thinking?” I asked quietly.

“You don’t want to know.” Ivar replied.

“I do,” I argued.

“I don’t want to scare you.”

 _You already have_ , I wanted to say. It hadn’t bothered me in the way it probably should have. Ivar was a drug, I was finding, and I was seeking out his darkness in more ways than I cared to admit.

“Tell me.”

Ivar finally turned his head to meet my eye. It was like looking at a different person – the transition having taken him so quickly. His hair framed his face and shadows lingered around his eyes; his expression was a contortion of the rage I had seen seep out of him earlier that night. It was astonishing how much he could hide behind his face once he intended it. His ability to do so scared me more than what he said next.

“I won’t rest until her blood soaks my hands... I don’t care what it takes.”

I simply stared at him, any semblance of speech having been rendered useless. I believed him as strongly as I did when he initially professed his will. And oddly, I didn’t feel a bit of sympathy for this Lagertha now; wasn’t remotely concerned by the notion. In a way, I _wanted_ him to get his revenge. I wanted him to achieve anything that would keep him from looking as tortured as he did now, even if it frightened me.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that.” He scolded.

Having been so deep in thought, I was unsure of what he meant. “How am I looking at you?”

Ivar sucked on his teeth in disapproval; eyes raked over my face as if trying to reason with it.

“Like you _feel_ for me.”

I huffed, turning over on my back to glare at the ceiling. “Do you want me to leave, then? Would you prefer that?” He was _so frustrating_. He always had to pin blame on my own feelings rather than own up to his own. It might’ve been his defense mechanism but I could only endure so much. “Why did you invite me here, Ivar?”

The hiss through his teeth had me chance a glance at him.

 “ _Ivar_.”

“I missed you.” He finally admitted. Against his own will, apparently, as he was quick to frown and shifted down the bed so he could lay back. The admission may have upset him, but my heart started to swell, hearing for the first time that maybe a part of him – even a small one – did care about me. I felt myself rolling onto my side to be closer to him. Watched his chest rise and fall with each of his breaths.

“I missed you, too.” I said quietly.

Ivar’s head whipped toward me, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as if I was insane for being attached to him.

“I am a _monster_ ,” he insisted. He abruptly mimicked my position, turning over until he faced me, and very suddenly I felt overwhelmed at how close he was. “I have _tried_ to keep you from wanting me and yet…” His lips pressed tightly together to prevent whatever it was he was about to say; a loud exhale passed through his nostrils, making them flare. Ivar had cried in my arms and he still couldn’t open up to me.

“Why?” He asked, perhaps rhetorically. I flinched when his hand touched my face, light as a feather. His fingertips trailed over my cheek as his eyes persistently inspected mine, trying to see the truth in them.

I didn’t know what to say to him. I still could hardly fathom it myself. Ivar was more alluring than anyone I had ever met; I had an insatiable need to know him inside and out. He fascinated me and I always wanted to be around him and it was _enough to drive one mad_.

I bristled, eyelids fluttering at the feel of his fingers on my skin. The sensation was distracting enough without having to focus on words. “I like you, Ivar,” was all I could bring myself to say.

His bright blue eyes softened through his intense expression. In a way that had me thinking he had never heard someone say that to him in his entire life. I couldn’t keep from soothing my hand over his waist, urging him to see I was being genuine, because he had clearly tucked that ability away a long time ago.

Our chests were nearly touching and the warmth of him just barely seeped into my hand when Ivar kissed me. It was without warning and hard, and by the time it registered in my mind, he was already pulling back. His eyes were clenched shut in a pained expression and he set his forehead on mine. I didn’t know how to respond to him; the feel of his mouth left me incoherent and it became difficult to breathe. His hand slid from my face to my neck, teased the skin of my throat with his thumb. My throat was my weak spot; Ivar was hardly applying pressure but I was already shuddering.

“And what kind of person does that make you, huh?” Ivar suddenly demanded. I whimpered when he raised his head to glare at me, a defiant pout set on his face. “I tell you I will _kill_ a woman, and all you do is want me -” he shook his head, “- _more_ than you already have.”

My mouth bobbed open like a fish as I tried to keep up with him. He was already moving his other arm to frame my head, hand still on my neck. His torso was halfway on top of me and that _alone_ was knocking the sense out of me. Every part of my body knew where this was going and part of me didn’t know if I was ready for it. What was his reasoning for it? Why _now_ , when he was filled with grief and sorrow. I felt like a bad influence simply by lying here.

“Lisbet,” Ivar called, playing with my name on his lips like he was trying to decide how it tasted. “Isn’t that right?”

I gulped and forced myself to give a curt nod, only spurring him on to kiss me again. His head moved rapidly toward me until he covered my mouth with his own and with no less sense of urgency. There was an odd sound similar to an animal crying, and only when he tilted his head to drag his tongue across the seam of my lips, did I realize it was coming from me.

Ivar’s lips felt just as _fucking_ _soft_ and plump as they looked. I could hardly fathom that this was even happening; the escalation of our relationship was leaving me breathless. Breathless to a fault when his large hand squeezed around my throat. It wasn’t enough to restrict my airway, but it was more than enough to get my body reacting more strongly – it was like a hot pike was shoved through my core, and in a second my hands were latching onto him, roaming over his back, squeezing and delving into the toned muscles of his body.

 _Fuck_ , I couldn’t believe this. Ivar felt better than I could have ever imagined, kissed better than I could have _dreamed_. He pried my mouth open with his and my moan was loud as I felt his tongue slide between my lips. Smooth, yet so demanding, and I sucked him in deeper. I wanted to taste every bit of him until he consumed me. It hadn’t even occurred to me if Ivar had been feeling as intensely, but then his torso smothered me into the mattress until I felt it hard to breathe under his weight. He grunted, feeling my teeth nip his lip, and his hand locked around my neck, holding me still to merely take on his onslaught.

I could feel his heart thrumming in his chest, the beat of it matched the quick succession of my own, and I pulled him even harder against me. I arched my back into him, withdrawing the sexiest groan I had ever _heard_ right out of Ivar’s lungs.

At once, his hand retreated from my throat and roamed between our bodies. His fingers dug into the meat of my thigh, raked their way across the length of it until he grasped behind my knee and gave it a forceful shove up and outward.

The sudden movement had me _squealing_ , a most violent throb settled in my groin. I tore my lips from Ivar, gasping for air. “ _Ivar_.”

He made a sound somewhere between humming and growling, not at all deterred by our separation. His forehead rolled over mine as he sunk his lips into the crevice of my neck instead. He mouthed at me there, sucking heavily until my eyes careened into the back of my head.

I could hear the sound of his muffled breathing right in my ear, little pleasured grunts mixed with his lapping tongue as he tasted me… I writhed against him. It felt so _good_ , all I could do was secure my hold on him. I clenched onto his shoulder, felt the muscle of it rippling as he moved. My other hand wove its way into his hair – _god_ , his hair. So soft and thick. My fingers tangled in at the nape of his neck. I tugged teasingly at it and this time he _definitely_ growled before clamping his teeth into my flesh.

He instantly had me crying out. My hips began to shake in a struggle to keep from bucking off the bed – Ivar’s hand left my knee to pin one side down. He planted a soft kiss just below my ear, his attempt to soothe me, but the strangled noise made its appearance again as he dipped his hand between my legs, slowly started to rub back and forth from my ass to pelvis. My entire body froze, but was shaking all the same.

“You make the best noises,” Ivar murmured into my ear. His voice had dropped several octaves. It gave me the chills and only turned me on even more. In rebellion, I tried to keep quiet, enduring his hand while he increased the pressure between my thighs with every stroke. 

“ _Please_ , Ivar,” I begged. Though for what, I wasn’t sure. I still felt a tiny part of me thinking I was taking advantage of him and that this was wrong. That we should stop. But then he was rolling his fingers over my clit through my shorts and I had to grit my teeth together to keep from screaming. I let go of him to clench fists around the blanket. If we continued, I knew it wouldn’t be _me_ choosing to be the responsible one.

Ivar’s effect on me felt dangerous. The _throbbing_ in my cunt was so intense, I thought I might pass out. Never in my life had anyone gotten me so _hot_ for them. Not even Kaleb in all our time together.

He held himself up on his elbow to look down on me, not even bothering to slow his hand. His perfect lips were swollen and slightly pink, his hair casted a shadow over his face, but not dark enough that I couldn’t see his pupils blown wide. They raked down my body and he nodded his head at me.

“Take that off.”

Still with the commands – I shouldn’t have been surprised but it felt thrilling all the same. I did as he told and pulled off my shirt. Tossed it aside.

There was such weight to his gaze that I blushed beneath it, almost wanting to cover up again. But then he lowered himself back down, let out a reverberating groan as he brought his mouth to roam over my breast. I wanted to sob just looking at him. He nosed at the cup of my bra and flicked his tongue, seeking my nipple out until he captured it between his lips. Ivar sucked on my breast as if he were parched, teased my nipple with the tips of his tongue and teeth until it was a solid bead on my chest.

I tore at my own hair as he moved to my other breast, began to do the same thing. “ _Fuck_ , Ivar – I can’t -” That was it - that was my attempt.

Ivar raised his head and looked up at me from under his lashes. Damn it all, why did he have to be so beautiful.

He came to rise on one hand and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth looking thoughtful. I thought perhaps that would be the end of this – I was beginning to regret saying anything at all, but it didn’t matter.

“Let me, then,” Ivar countered.

His hand deftly slid under my ass, grabbed the waistband of both my shorts and my panties, and managed to get them down to mid-thighs with one strong yank.

My mouth hung open at my own display; stretched for him, tits out and bottoms tugged down above my knees. I felt positively wanton. More so as I watched Ivar scissor his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, lathered at them generously with his tongue.

I perched myself up on my elbows, shamelessly wanting to get closer to him. Ivar shot me a smile, the first one I had seen on his face all night.

“So eager,” he remarked, then met me halfway, leaning in so his mouth brushed against mine. “I want to hear those sounds again.”

An easy feat as he teased my opening, then sank his long, thick fingers inside me. I watched his eyes narrow on my mouth as I managed to choke out a gasp. His own fell open in time with mine and his tongue darted at my lips, teasing me until I closed our distance, sealing our mouths together for another kiss.

Ivar’s fingers slid out then pushed right back in, curling to rub at me in the most perfect spot. I briefly wondered where he had gotten all of this experience, but the thought left me when he rubbed his thumb against my clit.

I moaned directly into his mouth and he forced me to lay back down again. Our kiss was even more heated now while his fingers pumped into me, steadily picking up speed. Tongues tangled and we both sucked down each other’s noises. I framed his face with both hands, holding him to me. I could’ve lost myself forever in Ivar; didn’t even feel him taking hold of my hair until he pulled my head back, forcing our lips apart.

“You want me to fuck you?” Ivar asked, voice husky as he breathed heavily through his teeth. He shoved his fingers into me as far as they would go until I was crying out. I clutched at his shirt, tugging and pulling so that he smirked at my helplessness. He kept his fingers plunged in deep, rubbing the same spot in me over and over from the inside. It was something no one had done to me before and the sensation drove me to be louder than ever. An orgasm hit me fast and hard and my whole body spasmed before curling in on itself.

I wasn’t even close to recovered when Ivar disposed of my shorts and underwear. My legs spread at his will and he pulled himself between them. In the rare times I allowed myself to fantasize about him, my thoughts would stray, wondering more about his maneuverability with his legs. He seemed to have no issue now.

My bra was removed in a whirlwind and he followed by pulling his shirt off. His whole body was just _fucking_ glorious. I couldn’t resist – scratched my nails down his muscular chest, only to see him bare his teeth at me. His arms flexed as he rolled his hips into me and I whimpered at the feel of his cock, so hard and restrained within his pants. Ivar grinded into me again and I dug my fingers into his waist.

“Go ahead,” he directed, nodding again. I almost asked him what he meant, but with another snap of his hips, I excitedly reached down and pulled on his pants. His boxer briefs went down next and his perfect cock struck solidly onto my pelvis. It was decently long as well as thick, enough so that my mouth opened in intimidation.

Ivar practically purred at me, took both of my wrists in one hand and pinned them down above my head. “You will be so _good_ at taking it.”

He hiked my thigh up his waist and secured it over his hip. I had been pressing my face into his shoulder though I could feel him guiding himself to my entrance. He prodded at me with the tip of his cock and I nearly snapped in impatience when he thrust fully into me.

It was a painful stretch around him and I was too stunned to make a sound; could only grind my teeth against his shoulder. He positively _filled_ me to the brink. I struggled under him, wishing to touch him but he wouldn’t budge. He kept my hands pinned, shouting into my ear as he thrust into me again. It was such a tight squeeze; it had been a while since I’d had sex last and my partner was not as thoroughly endowed as Ivar.

He sped up his thrusts faster than I was prepared for. Each snap of his hips was like he was trying to fuck me through the bed and sent an echo of smacking skin across the room.

After a solid moment of adjustment, the pain became more bearable, and I wrapped both of my legs around his waist, urging him on. He rammed even harder into me then, hips like a piston. It was like he was using every ounce of his strength on me, taking out every bit of his aggression until there was nothing left. My stomach tightened at the thought of what I could sense this was becoming, and it was too late now to turn back.

It still felt too _good_.

Ivar released my wrists, then just as quickly turned me over onto my stomach. I felt like a rag doll, hardly able to contain the volume of my own voice as his cock slid right back into me. I tried to support myself with my arms, but Ivar forced me down, bearing all of his weight with his hands gripping over my shoulders.

He was absolutely relentless, smothered me under his torso, tangled his hand in my hair and pulled, sunk his teeth into my back until his hips stuttered and a moan forced its way out of him. It was like I was a punching bag. Ivar pummeled his way into me repeatedly before giving one final sharp thrust. I could feel his cock twitching and the very heat of him as he spilled himself inside me. His body soon melted over mine, his forehead pressed into my spine and hot breath fanned my sweaty skin while he tried to relax.

I was frozen beneath him, even as he continued to whimper with each breath. Instantly my body felt sore, but more troublesome now was that I was certain he used me. I should’ve listened to that nagging part of me that I kept shutting out; I had been in the wrong to be taking advantage of him. He wasn’t in his right mind. And now he just fucked me like he hated me when it had started out so – well, who knew what his actual intentions were.

_God dammit, Lisbet._

My body was too exhausted and worn out to become as upset as I probably would have been if otherwise. Ivar laid one last kiss on the back of my neck before rolling off of me. I felt immensely lighter without him yet I was still stupidly craving him. Just like always.

I turned onto my side and kept my back to him as I caught my breath.

Everything between us was changed, but I felt no more certainty in his feelings for me than I did before tonight. And worse, I knew this would feel devastating tomorrow.

 

 

At some point during the night, I woke up to find Ivar’s arms wrapped around me with warmth radiating from his shirtless body. However, by the time I awoke with the sun having been up well into morning, I was alone. There was not a single sign of Ivar. No unfolded clothes; the wheelchair propped against the wall; crutches gone. Hell, even the blankets were so nicely tucked around me that it could’ve appeared that I had slept alone.

Somewhere my sanity should’ve been, I found laughter instead.

I laughed so hard, that having been sitting up, I fell back again with my arms outstretched. So loud that my voice echoed in the room. If I stopped laughing I was going to cry and there was not an ounce of my pride that was willing to shed tears.

I would attempt to stuff the loneliness of waking up without Ivar deep down inside so I could get myself up and out of this house. I wanted nothing more than to leave, feeling like I was dirty.

But first, there was a knock on the door and Ubbe poked his head in. I was in such a state that I didn’t even care that I was undressed. The blanket covered my privates, and Ubbe didn’t _ogle_ the way the other brothers might’ve.

“Tell me, Ubbe, is Ivar around?” I knew the answer before he spoke it, but I just needed to entertain the broken part of me a second longer.

Ubbe was already frowning and let himself in the room; shut the door behind him and leaned on it. He looked a hint of a shade better than last night, dressed down in a dark green sweatsuit.

“I’m afraid not.”

My voice caught in my throat when I tried another bout of laughter. I bit my lips to keep quiet instead.

After a moment of awkward silence, I sat up and wrapped the blanket around me, dragged it with me as I rose to get off the bed. I wouldn’t put it back either, I decided stubbornly. I’d leave it on the floor for the neat freak to find.

“Ubbe, I am starting to _hate_ your brother more and more,” I said darkly.

“I don’t blame you,” Ubbe agreed easily. I wondered if he had seen Ivar earlier. If they had spoken about what happened or if Ubbe just _knew_. “I’m sorry he is such a prick to you. Come eat some breakfast, it’s just about ready.”

I was shaking my head, ignoring his quick change of subject as I trudged around to pick my bag up off the floor. “I think I’ve had enough embarrassment, thanks.”

“Ivar self-sabotages, Lisbet. Don’t blame his actions on yourself.” I gave him a wary look. No wonder he was married already. He seemed to be the only decent man in the family. It made me curious to wonder what Ragnar had been like.

But I didn’t want to stay. What if Ivar came back while I was eating breakfast with his family? It felt like a type of betrayal – being here without his permission when he so clearly wanted me gone. And if that _was_ what Ivar wanted, then I would do exactly that.

“It was a long night for all of us,” Ubbe went on. “I don’t want you to leave without eating.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I will TRY to chill with the angst for the next one...


	7. Chapter 7

I was fairly fucking certain life was developing a knack for kicking me while I was down.

Nearly two weeks of utter silent separation had passed when Ivar arrived unannounced at my bookshop. It was the last fifteen minutes of my closing shift; I was ringing up a customer on the relatively slow night when a familiar town cab pulled up to the curb out front. The shiny black exterior caught my attention – this part of town was inhabited mostly by bicyclers – but I shrugged away the chill down my spine, resumed my transaction as I brushed it off as being one of the slew of other fancy cabs that plenty of rich people got driven around in.

How silly of me.

As soon as the customer left the store, I began to clear out the back. Set the chairs on their respective tables in preparation of closing. My eyes caught movement out front again and I curiously glanced up, only to feel my heart sink at the sight of Cris assisting Ivar out of the car.

There was a clatter as I dropped a chair and it landed sideways on the floor.

I was grateful to have been alone in the shop. The air rushed from my lungs and I froze as if seeing a ghost, watching Ivar lean half of his weight onto his crutches and the rest on the trunk of the cab. He kept his gaze idly on the shop while he lit a cigarette. I couldn’t tell if he could see inside to find my petrified stance; the summer sun still lit up the sky and the reflection off the windows could’ve prevented it.

The sudden rush of mixed emotions filled my body in a most unsettling fashion. A range from anger to happiness; bitterness to excitement. I wanted to strut outside and slap Ivar’s stupid face and hug him at the same time.

I had to shake myself. There shouldn’t have been any part of me that wanted to be affectionate toward him. After all, as of late it was he who’d been the reason for my heavy plummet in mood. Effective enough that even my parents began to suspect I was having some sort of ‘event’ and were prodding into my life more than they had in a long time.

Nearly two weeks, and nothing. After that night, I didn’t dare hope for Ivar to call me, and he didn’t. I didn’t dare to call him, either. If he wished to be in touch, he would get in touch. That was his way. I’d been unsure if I even _wanted_ to hear from – well, that was untrue. Of course I did. But that was against my better judgement. The rational side of me that _used_ to be more reliable felt otherwise.

For no more than a second did I entertain the idea that this could’ve merely been coincidence. But as minutes went by, Ivar did not move. He was evidently waiting for me. What could the reason for this possibly be?

 _Damn him_. Damn him and his ability to upend my life whenever he pleased, and retain the ability to appear so cool and collected and handsome as he did so. From inside, I could see his overpriced wardrobe, and he was the perfect picture of reservation. Meanwhile, my hands shook so badly I had to recount the money in the till three times before closing it out.

I locked the back door and shut off the lights. By the time I approached the front door, Ivar’s gaze was set on me. A gust of smoke streamed from between his lips, and even in twilight, I could tell his eyes were probing into me. I met them with my own begrudgingly. I knew it’d be stupid to wish I’d never see him again – it’d be dramatic and childish – but _fuck_ , his rejection of me had felt like an open wound, worsened by his silence all this time. I had hoped I wouldn’t see him until next term at school. Hoped even more that I’d be over him by then.

My hand lingered on the door as we stared at each other. I was hovering. Reluctant to go outside and meet him. From the way he appraised me, I was sure he thought I’d make a run for it as strongly as I wanted to. It was certainly tempting after spending days wallowing in my own self-pity and heartache.

But we couldn’t stand on either side of the door all night.

Heaving a sigh, I exited the shop, locked up behind me, and took cautious steps toward Ivar. Not for the first time, I felt like a complete frump in comparison to him. He was dressed to the nines, draped in a black Burberry trench coat that even with crutches shoved into his sides looked sleek and glamorous. His white blouse was crisp and freshly ironed, as well as his black trousers. Shiny black Oxford’s adorned his crooked feet.

His pulled back hair was like the cherry on the cake; perfectly combed and tied into a round bun atop his head.

The bookshop required no semblance of uniform, and though I always made sure to look presentable, I felt less than appealing in a skirt similar to the one I wore for school, and a grey sweater that was plain and a little fuzzy. It had rained that afternoon so my hair was less than neat.

My fingers nervously wrung around the keys as I came to stop before him, attentive to the distance between us.

Ivar pulled a drag from his cigarette and tilted his head in appraisal – I could practically _feel_ him trying to poke around in my thoughts and easily became defensive.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here, Ivar?” I sounded more exasperated than I intended, and even Ivar’s brows rose at my little outburst. “How – how do you even know where I work?”

As his mouth opened, I immediately regretted asking, fully unprepared to hear the sound of his voice. Not one word from him this whole time made his presence all the more overwhelming. I was silently _pleading_ my heartbeat to slow.

“Do you really think that would be hard for me to find out?” He asked smartly, thumb flicking ash to the ground. There was something so offensive that he could just stand there and smoke a cigarette as if this should be a casual conversation, when I’d felt like he’d broken a part of me.

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. “ _What_ are you doing here?”

“I want to show you something,” he said simply, like it made all the sense in the world.

“A phone call couldn’t suffice?” I asked seriously.

“I didn’t think you would answer,” Ivar offered.

I choked down a scoff in my throat. “You were right.” A bold fucking lie, but it was worth the smidge of satisfaction watching Ivar’s lips press solidly together in frustration.

He flicked his cigarette to the ground and shifted closer to me on his crutches. I took a wary step back, still intent on keeping a distance. Being around him seemed to lure me into making poor decisions. Ivar did nothing for my impulse control – made all the clearer as I struggled not to watch the way the buttons of his shirt struggled to contain the muscle of his chest as he moved.

I couldn’t believe it was possible to feel this type of conflict roiling inside of your own body. I _hated_ him then, and yet images of him on top of me flashed through my head. I could hear him moaning and gasping and feel the skin of his naked torso. I wanted to curse him away even as an ache plundered in the depths of my belly for him. I could recall the strength of his hips; the way I cried out his name.

My mouth suddenly felt dry and I released a shaky breath through my parted lips. Seeking distraction, I looked over at Cris who’d been perched on the other end of the car.

“What’s with the muscle?” I squeaked. Cris did a well enough job of making himself seem invisible, but I couldn’t help but notice his presence when I only ever saw the back of his head. He was taller than I expected.

“He’s been very protective since… Since Mother.” My head whipped around at the sound of Ivar's voice fading; his eyes had fallen to the ground and I realized his composed façade wasn’t nearly as strong as it usually was. But he was quick to attempt to hide it, and called over to Cris. “You can wait in the car, this won’t take long.”

My stomach turned and I softened a little, feeling my crossed arms begin to slide apart. Though I was curious as to what he meant, I still couldn’t contain the worry that fluttered in my stomach as Cris left us alone. “Are you in danger?”

His short chuckle was sardonic and he was eyeing my face again so suddenly it made me flinch. A ghost of a smile played on his face. “Usually. Some days more than others.”

I had nothing to say to that. It was still difficult to grasp the concept of what his involvement in the Mob truly meant. What he actually _did_ for it. I knew nothing of it except for what I suspected was the Lothbrok’s involvement in drug trafficking. Oddly enough, I was more concerned with what had occurred between Ivar and I than with his affiliation in crime.

Ivar pulled me out of my thoughts as he gestured to the car. “Will you get in?”

At once, I sputtered, my softening heart immediately hardening again. “What? No!” I had to contain the shriek I wanted to let out. Hardly back in his company and already I was feeling manipulated. Like he’d purposely tried to wane me down a little just so he could sway me easily.

I think he must’ve thought I’d comply more willingly; he sucked on his teeth and glared. And I could see him struggling to keep his composure steady, but a shouting match quickly began between us.

“Lisbet, if you’d just -”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Ivar.”

“Don’t be so fucking stubborn, I _told_ you -”

“ _Me_? _I’m_ fucking stubborn?”

He brushed past the comment - “Just _trust_ me, I wouldn’t -”

“- _Trust_ you?!” My voice had risen impossibly high before there was a dramatic pause as we sneered at each other with bated breath. “You _really_ expect me to trust you?” Ivar leaned back against the car, breaking our eye contact as his jaw clenched, but I weened our distance, stepping closer until he was unable to ignore me. It took all I had to resist jabbing my finger into his chest for extra measure. “How could you possibly expect me to trust you, Ivar? After _everything_ you’ve put me through!”

Ivar was scoffing then, and the roll of his eyes made me want to hit him all the more. “Don’t act like such a fucking _victim_ , Lisbet. You used me, too.”

My eyes narrowed in anger and disbelief. “Is that really what you believe?”

He hesitated; I don’t think it’d been his intention to say such a thing but he continued to stand his ground, even if it looked hard for him to do so. “I was -” he paused to scoff at himself, like he was upset at what he was about to say.

“I was not myself, and you took advantage.”

There may have been a time I would’ve agreed with him, but not anymore. I’d deemed it a poor lack in judgement; I’d foolishly fucked him on a night where emotions ran too high for the both of us. I’d made a mistake. _I was capable of making mistakes_. And I would’ve made up for it if only given the chance. But Ivar had held the position of power that night. _Fuck_ \- was it really possible for him to think – even now – that my feelings for him were so disingenuous? That I would treat our intimacy so carelessly? Could Ivar really have thought so lowly of himself?

“At least I _stayed_ ,” I snapped through grit teeth. “I didn’t sneak out before you woke up to leave you feeling like some _whore_.” I waited for Ivar to interject; give any sort of signal that what I was saying meant something to him, but he stayed quiet. “We could’ve talked about it, Ivar… Instead, you tossed me aside _again_. Chalked up my emotions to some ‘stupid crush’ _again_ when I -”

Abruptly, I cut myself off and turned away from him before I would say too much. Made a bigger fool of myself than I already had. In all my anger, I thought perhaps it’d be easier to profess what exactly I felt for him, but I realized I couldn’t quite understand the depths of it myself. He wasn’t normal, my feelings for him weren’t normal, and the weight of it all was too unnerving for me to properly grasp. At least for a while I thought Ivar _knew_ how true they were, used the term ‘crush’ as an easy out for him to cut me off. But now…

I watched him more carefully, trying to gauge his thoughts. There was uncertainty in his eyes and I truly believed it to be the first time I ever sensed an air of vulnerability around him.

I retreated from him, giving me the space to collect myself and light up a cigarette. I let out the first mouthful of smoke with a heavy gust.

“Lis’,” Ivar called. My attention became alert at once. He never called me that before. “Just get in the goddamn car.” He appeared much calmer albeit the cursing. His forehead tilted in my direction and I was taken aback by the sudden sincerity in his eyes; he was unblinking. “Nothing will happen that you don’t want, and we can discuss this after… _Then_ if you still want me to piss off, I will piss off.”

I whined ungracefully, wishing my curiosity wasn’t so fucking persistent or that Ivar didn’t have the ability to sway me with a mere look of his eye. The world would have done me a favor by making him vanish into thin air at that very moment.

“Besides,” he went on. “You owe me.”

My mouth fell open, incredulous. I watched his jaw roll and that familiar cocky smirk tug on his lips. Ivar may have thought he was being funny, but I was all too aware that deep down he had meant that seriously. It was something he and his brothers said and abided by each time. “We are already running late.”

I laughed despite myself and shook my head at him. Ivar appeared pleased at the result and reached down to throw open the passenger door to the car. I eyed it warily.

“Now, get in.” His smirk slowly faded into a grimace. “It appears we have a lot to learn about one another.”

 

The car ride to wherever the fuck I was being taken to was thick with tension. It felt weird being in such close proximity to Ivar again. Even the scent of his cologne was encroaching on my senses and it sapped my energy to stay focused. I had no idea what I was walking into but something told me I had to keep my wits. Without fail, Ivar was a distraction that needed firm eschewing.

I’d like to plead ignorance and say that I didn’t know why I finally agreed to join him, but that would’ve been naïve. The sating of my curiosity was a bonus, but it was clear I was attached to Ivar in a way that put my own judgement on a wayward path. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

I looked over at him in the seat next to me. His hard exterior was back in place and it was impossible to get a read on him as he gazed out of the window. His fist was propped under his chin and he appeared deep in thought. I wondered if he was as on edge as I was – more importantly, if it was because of _me_ and not something else. It was no exaggeration that I’d been miserable all this time because of him. If he meant to lead me on the further by creating this faux opportunity to work on our ‘relationship’, I’d be sure to throttle him for it later.

After some time, we pulled into the driveway on another massive piece of property much akin to the Lothbrok Estate’s. The only difference was that this didn’t seem to be a private residence. If anything, it appeared to be more of a yacht club; a sleek and modern two floor building that shone brightness onto the grounds through its floor to ceiling windows. It was bordered by a port that was lit with lanterns and brimming with upscale liners. It appeared incandescent in all its glory.

We were one of many town cabs as we pulled up to the entrance. For a moment I wondered if it was Ivar’s intention to take me on a date – mortifying to contemplate - but then I started to recognize some of the people who were steadily milling inside. People from the Estate I had seen after Aslaug’s death.

“ _Fuck_ ,” I muttered. Wincing all the more to see how impeccably dressed everyone was. No wonder Ivar looked so good. 

“You will be fine.” Ivar assured, but I was already throwing my hand up to the roof of the car to turn the light on. In a rushed panic, I ripped off my baggy sweater, thankful that I had a silk button-up underneath it. It was thin, but anything that could’ve been deemed inappropriate was hidden by an extra camisole. I undid the first few buttons and gave my bra a good readjusting, not even giving a shit if Ivar noticed. Really - _a phone call couldn’t have sufficed?_

I reached between the seats, startling Cris to adjust his review mirror so I could see myself, even if it was a small portion. My hair was still a mess. I rifled through my purse, relieved to find a few bobby pins, and was quick to part my hair and pin the front section atop my head to make the unruliness seem slightly more intentional.

What I wouldn’t give for a tube of lipstick. I scoured through the rest of my bag, cursing every time I reached an empty corner. All I could find was a neutral toned lip balm, but that would have to do. I applied a layer, and did a final adjustment on my clothes, pulling and tugging to make sure everything was orderly.

Ivar _had_ been watching - by the time I was finished, anyway. I was suddenly so anxious that I couldn’t find it in myself to glare at him. But if anything, he looked pleased and offered me an approving nod just as Cris parked at the front. I hated to admit how comforting the tiny gesture was.

“ _I_ owe _you_ , huh?” I asked dryly. We smiled at each other and for a moment I was able to forget the underlying tension between us.

 

Once inside, it was hard not to become overwhelmed at the small crowd that surrounded us. There had to have been over thirty people in the lobby; a number that on any normal occasion may not have bothered me, but yet again I was being thrust into this world I hardly had a semblance of belonging in. All eyes landed on Ivar before drifting to me, and I did my best to shrink behind him.

Whatever this event was, was about to begin, and on the other side of the impeccably tiled room was a set of double-doors that the group poured through. Ivar followed suit and I trudged after him, thankful that at least the overstimulation was enough to keep my mind off the bundle of nerves going haywire in my mind.

We entered what seemed to be a windowless conference room; an extensive table spanned the length of the room and rows of chairs extended around it. Most of the crowd situated in them, but those most notable to me sat at the table. I was unsurprised to see Ivar approach one end of it – finding relief in my limbs as I saw Ubbe at the head, his wife Margrethe at his right, followed by Hvitserk, then Sigurd. All were dressed as formally as Ivar.

Ubbe rose to greet his brother and I couldn’t resist the thrill at seeing his face light up upon seeing me in tow. A good friendship was brewing between us – regardless of Ivar’s involvement. I had let him convince me into breakfast on that otherwise terrible morning... I’d finally been properly introduced to Margrethe, and though a bruised Sigurd was partaking, we shared a meal as pleasant as could be, given the circumstances. Hvitserk included.

I’d even come to find that Ubbe was much more amicable toward texting than his youngest brother. He was keen on keeping in touch, and during the recent days of feeling so miserable, he was an excellent source of solace. He was the only one I could really talk to about Ivar.

I welcomed his hug, feeling a smile spread across my face that felt new compared to the downtrodden lack thereof in recent days. Ivar’s glare in our direction was impossible to ignore.

“What is my baby brother playing at?” Ubbe teased into my ear. “I mean no offense, but you are the last person I’d expected to see here.”

“You’re no more lost than I,” I jested. 

Ubbe loosened his grip on me to look me in the eye; his confusion equally matched his pleasantry. “Shall I get you a drink?”

“Gin, please.” I requested with no hesitation. If I didn’t get something to ease my nerves quick, I wouldn’t be able to sit through whatever sort of meeting this was without panicking. Ubbe retreated straight away to fetch me a drink, then Margrethe pulled me into a hug of her own. I felt shy around her; she was the typical epitome of blonde beauty, and it still made my stomach twist to think that her and Ivar had slept together. It made no difference that she was married to Ubbe now.

“I see you’re nervous,” she whispered into my ear.

“I’m not entirely sure what’s going on,” I admitted.

“Stay quiet while they go over their business. I don’t suspect you’ll be addressed.” I was grateful for the advice as Ivar had provided nothing of the sort. “You look fine enough. Just be sure to support him; you are his guest.”

My brows furrowed as she released me. Something told me that there was more weight to being a ‘guest’ here than there might’ve been elsewhere.

I didn’t have much of an opinion on Margrethe. But as she gave me one last reassuring look, I realized that if she could handle situations such as these, then I was more than capable.

I sat beside Ivar, who upon facing, looked me up and down with more heat in his eyes than I appreciated. I couldn’t decipher if it had more to do with Ubbe or Margrethe, but as Ubbe returned with my drink, I wasted no more time trying to guess. Instead, kicked the glass back and took a healthy mouthful.

Ubbe took his seat on the other side of me and I tried my best to settle in.

Soon enough the room was filled; each chair at the table was occupied. I didn’t need clarification that everyone present was in the Mob. They were all connected somehow – that was clear. And though there was a small part of me that felt I might've been in danger, I was soothed in having been surrounded by Ivar and Ubbe. Regardless of their true natures, I felt safe between them.

A voice cut across the room. “Who is your guest, Ivar?”

What was left of the chatter quieted down as each head in the room turned in my direction. I attempted to meet their looks face on, not wanting to appear feeble. _So much for not being addressed_ … I searched for the person who spoke only to find the man Floki on the other half of the table. He was slouched in his seat with a tall mug of ale in front of him; an amused expression inflated his cheeks.

“Shut up, Floki,” Ubbe said lightly. “You know who she is.”

He did? Who else was I to expect to know me? And _why_ would they? My mental line of questions was interrupted by Floki’s shrill giggle – a most unexpected sound coming from a man his caliber. I looked at Ivar who seemed entirely disinterested with the exchange until another man spoke up.

“But _I_ do not know who she is.” Heads turned down the table and I followed suit, laying eyes on the man I’d seen at the Estate conversing with Ivar; the one with the tattooed face and long braided hair. Still accompanied by the blonde who looked similar, seated at his right. Sat in their expensive suits, there wasn’t a single thing about them that didn’t scream _gangster_. “She must be important to be a guest of Ivar Lothbrok.”

A chill ran down my spine. I did not like the way he said that.

Ivar sat up straighter but I could only see the back of his head as he addressed this man. “All you need to know, Harald, is that I vouch for her. She is trustworthy.”

The weight of what was happening crushed down on my shoulders as hushed voices sounded in the room. To think I hadn’t put much thought to Ivar and this _business_ – why had I not chosen to take it more seriously? I suddenly felt like I had a target on my head, made only slightly dimmer by Ivar’s defensiveness.

I watched as Harald smiled in a way that made my stomach turn, revealing those few golden teeth. His mouth opened to speak once more but Ivar interrupted, voice taking a harsher tone this time. “Do you mean to question me, Harald?”

There was a strangled silence and a blush flooded my cheeks, but not out of fear or embarrassment this time - quite the opposite. I did my best to ignore it as Harald rushed to shake his head.

“No, Ivar. Of course not.”

“Good.” Ivar nodded and reached for an ashtray. He rifled through his jacket until withdrawing a cigarette and lit it with a match. “Let’s get on with business then, shall we?”

I swooned at his command of authority. It was forever baffling, his ability to control those around him - how fully-grown men could obey a person so young, with the face of an angel. I was deaf to someone else picking up the conversation as Ivar glanced at me. I swore I was hiding my blooming smile, but then his eyes drifted to my mouth and I trembled. I couldn’t read his expression at all, and too soon the moment ended as he averted his attention back to the room.

And that was how the meeting started.

Around the table, people took turns to discuss the status of their involvements - I was quick to learn that this organization was not a singular business, but multiple running intersectionally. Their main priority was the trading exports Ragnar had been most notorious for. The Lothbrok’s had their hands in the funding as well as profit gained from _anything_ outsourced by Denmark.

I knew that taxing was higher on such products, but I briefly wondered if pricing had anything to do with their involvement. They clearly had ties in the government, and I even came to discover that Ubbe was a budding politician… It was a lot to take in at once. Over the course of an hour, I kept an attentive eye on Ivar to keep up with his reactions. He was mostly quiet, taking his time to focus on each person as they spoke. I was certain he was exercising his deft ability to read them in and out the way he so masterfully could.

Though most people reported to the brother’s, the boys barely budged an inch at the preceding’s. Only when Harald once again opened his mouth to speak on drug trade did they begin to pay closer attention.

“I have told you time and time again, we do not want the affiliation.” Ivar grumbled. “It’s too dirty. Makes for bad business. Only recently did we dispose of the last gang who disobeyed our terms.” He meant Kaleb of course, and anyone else who worked alongside him at the time.

“And I still think you are to brash on the subject,” Harald countered. I was starting to get the vibe that he was consistently problematic to the family. Eyes awkwardly bounced back and forth as Ivar leaned forward to set his forearms on the table, seeming insulted. “The profits we could gain from this city alone would be insurmountable enough to give us endless… _wiggle_ room elsewhere.”

“I care more about keeping quiet and reputable than I do for wiggle room. We don’t need _junkies_ making our establishment chaotic.”

“I don’t know, Ivar,” Hvitserk interjected. “Perhaps we should hear this out. Some wiggle room might be a good thing – especially while Ubbe is trying to get into Office.”

Ivar quickly refuted him. “That is _precisely_ why we should not get involved with it,” he sneered through his teeth. “The last thing we need are drug allegations against Ubbe – more so with Ecbert still Prime Minister. He will do anything to squash any power of ours that he can get his hands on.”

My stomach dropped. The _fucking_ _Prime Minister of England_ was somehow involved in all this? How far could their influence possibly have stretched? I struggled to pull my attention from Ivar’s incensed glare to Ubbe’s more contemplative one. Margrethe looked anxious at his side, but he seemed to treat both arguments with equal consideration.

“You still mean to bring Ecbert down?” Floki interjected. He wore a wry grin, looking almost as if he were proud.

“He will not get away with what he did to Ragnar.”

Ivar announced it as confidently as his sworn revenge on Lagertha. In a way that left no room for argument or discussion - it was as good as fixed. Goosebumps rose on my skin, tingling at the very way Ivar spoke and held himself. I’d never seen anything like it.

“I believed it to be Aelle to have killed your father,” the blonde next to Harald retorted.

It was obvious Ivar was fighting with his own temper. There was a tremble inside him as he lit another cigarette. “Aelle was a pawn of Ecbert’s – and only furthers my point. If Ragnar had not gotten mixed up in what you are suggesting, he would never have owed that debt to Ecbert.”

There was a synchronous nod of agreement, some even raised their drinks in honor of Ragnar’s death.

“What you are suggesting seems to only benefit you and your brother, Harald.” Ubbe finally proclaimed.

“Benefits to us bring benefits to you and yours, Ubbe,” Harald’s brother chimed in.

“I didn’t believe your influence to be so _meager_ in Norway, Halfdan,” Ivar snapped.

“It would certainly be news to me, Ivar.” Harald retorted. “If you wish, I could show you just how far those profits amass with what I’m proposing.”

I could hear the sharp intake of breath Ivar took to object once more, only to be stopped by Ubbe raising his hand.

“Surely, that is what we will require before we discuss the matter further.” The corner of Ubbe’s lip twitched and he tilted his head to the side, fingers of his other hand playing idly at the stem of his wine glass. “Only then will we consider your proposal.”

Perhaps begrudgingly, that seemed to settle the matter. There was a resounding murmur of agreement and even Harald couldn’t find it in himself to argue.

Ubbe suddenly lurched over in his seat. Leaned across me to talk to Ivar. “We will need eyes in Oslo,” he said in a hushed voice. “I still don’t trust his allegiance.”

“One thing we still agree on, Brother.” Ivar concurred. He tapped his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, and Ubbe was amid readjusting in his chair when the double doors to the room flew open.

The amount of people who reached for the linings of their coats was startling, only to freeze as they – and myself – realized who had just entered.

Lagertha Lothbrok strutted inside, followed by a minimal fleet of what must have been her supporters – comprised solely of women. Since befriending Ivar, I’d grown accustomed to meeting those who I could recognize merely from seeing them on the News. But given current events, I had to smother my mouth with my hand in order to keep from gasping. My eyes darted to Ivar in a panic, but his back was twisted toward me and I couldn’t see his face. I looked to the rest of the brother’s and they all mimicked the same shock as I – all but Sigurd, who consistently appeared unbothered throughout the entire meeting.

“I apologize for my lateness,” Lagertha said.

I held a biased loathing toward her, but all the same, she looked positively beautiful. Long blonde hair draped down to just above the swell of her ass, and her tiny yet muscular frame was tightly bound in a floor-length black dress.

Scoffs of disapproval echoed on the walls as she strode alongside the room, rounding at the other end of the table with her crew in tow.

Ivar’s body slowly turned as his eyes followed her. I noticed his own hand reach into his pant pocket after stubbing out his cigarette, but there was no sign for as to what just yet.

“Lagertha,” Ubbe called; I was astonished at the calmness of his voice, but finding his hands clenched around the end of the table, he clearly had a façade as well practiced as Ivar’s. Maybe even better. “Your presence is unexpected.”

“ _And unwanted_ …” I heard someone whisper. The grievance stemmed beyond Ivar and his brothers, evidently. Though I shouldn’t have been surprised given the turnout at Aslaug’s wake.

“Yes, I’m sure this is a surprise, yet here I am.” Not one body budged to make room for her at the table so she clasped her fingers over the backs of two chairs. “And I wish to make an announcement.”

“No one cares about your announcement,” Hvitserk droned; even went so far as to kick his feet on the table to emphasize his meaning.

Lagertha didn’t appear offended by this. “Perhaps you will,” she uttered. “My son Bjorn will be taking over the Company.”

Silence filled the room until laughter filled it. Ivar’s laughter – never having sounded so dark and menacing before now.

“You can’t be serious…” he murmured.

I watched his hand retreat from his pocket, and clenched in his fist was a butterfly knife. His fingers deftly loosed it beneath the table, and he twirled it back and forth expertly between them. The rigidity of his posture made it unclear if he intended on using it.

“I am very serious, Ivar.” Lagertha said, narrowing her eyes on him. It was a brave move, I thought, to direct her words at him so boldly. If I were her, I would’ve feared for my life. “You so often forget you are not the only son of Ragnar; you were not the first to be groomed for this business, either.”

“Bjorn may share our name but he is not one of us,” Ivar argued. I was almost relieved not to have to see his face directly; I could only imagine how menacing it would’ve appeared. The octave of his voice had dropped so deathly low that the sound of it alone was enough to scare me. “And neither are _you_. You have no allies here. You will never take the Company.”

Lagertha withdrew her hands from the chairs she leaned upon to straighten her back, chin raised in the air. I had to admit, the way she stood unbudgingly was impressive “The Board may disagree. My son’s fleet will be returning soon enough and I will propose he be Acting President.”

“ _Ivar_ is to be President,” Ubbe declared.

“And how long do you think that would last as a full-time student?” Lagertha asked rhetorically. “Ivar is too young and has too many other responsibilities. I’m _certain_ the Board would object to entrusting their company in his hands, regardless of Ragnar’s Will.” Her tone couldn’t have been more patronizing, and a small smile stretched her lips when she added – “Bjorn will be a much more fitting substitute.”

I jumped at the flash of movement to my left as Ivar raised his hand and drilled his knife into the table. “ _Over my cold corpse_ ,” he hissed.

Lagertha crossed her arms over her chest, looking smug. “Tell me, Ivar. How much of these people’s loyalty do you think you’ll still have by the time you’re _suitable_ enough?”

“You should be very careful with what you say, Lagertha.” Ivar’s voice shook as he spoke. “I may choose not to respect our neutrality here.”

I noticed I wasn’t the only one to shift in unease. Even Ubbe looked startled at Ivar’s threat. I could only assume that 'neutrality' meant that there had been a universal agreement for there to be no violence at this location. There was sure to be consequences for breaking that.

“You won’t kill me, Ivar.” Lagertha said slowly.

“You _murdered_ my mother!” Ivar suddenly yelled; fist slamming against the table. He was leaning forward at such an angle, he could’ve fallen from his seat. “For nothing more than _greed_.” He tore the knife from the table and flipped it openly in his hand. “Are you a Boss, Lagertha?”

Lagertha’s reaction, though minimal, was the first tell of the fear she actually felt. From across the room, I could see her posture falter. Her eyes fall to the floor. Ivar gestured with the blade of his knife as he went on. “No, you are not. But _I am_. And I don’t need permission to kill you if I so wish. You know that. It’s the only reason you are here right now… Making _pious_ threats.”

My jaw unhinged before he leaned back in his chair. I couldn’t take my eyes off him; everyone in the room was practically basking in his rage and he _still_ managed to seem like he held all of the control. He adjusted his coat as he turned toward me, leaning over the armrest to speak – doing a double-take when he caught my facial expression. I couldn’t blame him; I could hardly fathom what it must’ve looked like. Never before in my life had I ever been so frightened and turned on at the same time.

“Time to go.”

 

As soon as we were back in the car, Ivar was tapping wildly on his phone. The turn of tonight’s events mimicked such a whirlwind to me that I didn’t mind the sudden quiet. This morning, I had woken up still stuck in the depression Ivar left me in, and now – _now what_?

Ivar never spoke to me of his emotions; never once informed me if he was attracted to me, or cared for me in any respect. Was this meant as some grand gesture of such a thing? Surely, such an invitation into his life – a witness to a meeting of the fucking Mob – had to mean _something_ of the sort.

“Passports, Cris?” Ivar asked, voice pulling me out of my thoughts.

I looked over in time to see Cris hand Ivar two passports from the driver's seat. He rifled through them before proceeding with whatever he was doing on his phone.

“What’s happening, Ivar?” I dared to ask.

“I knew that bitch would try something like this,” Ivar began to explain, thumb still tapping away on the screen. “I just didn’t think she’d try it so soon and so publicly. She’s forced my hand.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but he elaborated once his phone was tucked away in his coat a few minutes later.

“I will have to leave the country.” My brows furrowed in concern. “I should reestablish the allies we have in the rest of Scandinavia and the U.K.. It’s been too long since we’ve reached out. I’ve been distracted.” His eyes darted back and forth around the back of the car and his fingers drummed on the armrest of the door. It was obvious he was anxious.

“The Board might have a problem with my _age_ , but they will have a bigger problem with losing connects in other countries because Lagertha and my prick half-brother hold no alliances.” There was something thrilling in the way he spoke. It made my heart flutter, and I felt pride for him. He was just so _smart_ and cunning to have already contemplated this – to already be a step ahead of the rest of them.

His phone rang a moment later and upon answering, I could tell it was Ubbe on the other end. They discussed Ivar’s plans and it was decided that Ubbe would be going with him. There was something comforting in that; I was glad the two of them would be together.

Cris drove us back to my bookshop. I’d been so caught up in my mind that I didn’t even realize the car had stopped until Ivar spoke up again.

“Could you give us a moment?”

Cris wordlessly abided and stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind him. The sun had set now, but I could see he didn’t wander far from the car. I looked over at Ivar to see he was already watching me. His beauty was briefly distracting; only the streetlights illuminated the inside of the car and the shadows deeply contrasted each and every sharp angle of his face. But even in the dark, his eyes were still so bright and blue. It was a hard thing to retain the ability to meet his gaze, to make sense of his calm when I couldn't imagine what he must've been feeling inside.

“Do you know why I brought you there, Lisbet?” Ivar asked softly.

I gulped, second-guessing if it really was Ivar’s version of grand gesture. Our connection had been so complicated that a part of me found it too easy now, for him to just tell me what I wanted to hear.

“I think so,” I replied warily. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Ivar bit his lip in attempt to quell his shy smile. I welcomed its appearance, shocked he even had the capability to smile after his latest confrontation. But it was quick to fade, and he leaned back onto the headrest of his seat.

“I didn’t want you introduced earlier so that you can still walk away now if you want to.”

“Walk away?”

Ivar turned his head to appraise me before responding. “Things will get dangerous now more than ever… I confess I am selfish for even proposing -” he stopped for a second. “But I needed you to see what it’s like. What it could be like.” Another dramatic pause before – “Being with me.”

It was so quiet while he let the words sink in that I’m certain he could’ve heard my heartrate pick up. This was quickly becoming a situation I may have only dreamed of previously, but I couldn’t feel the ecstasy I did in those fantasies. Ivar was right. There was much more weight to this now, the abnormality of being with a Lothbrok than with any other seemingly normal person. It wasn’t to be considered lightly.

“I have purposefully treated you poorly,” he admitted. “I saw us becoming attached and I wanted to prevent it from going any further. I knew you would be a distraction and I tried – I _really_ tried to dislike you but… You had to be so clever and…”

He turned to face me better and I felt myself doing the same thing. I desperately wanted him to go on - this was the most Ivar had ever opened up to me.  I wasn’t about to interrupt that.

“If you really want this, you must know what you are walking into. There will be more nights like tonight, and that was just a _glimpse_ ,” he gestured to the vague distance. “And no matter what you see or hear, you must never utter a word of it to anyone outside of the Family.”

I gulped again, audibly louder this time. There was no doubting the seriousness to his tone.

“More than just love and sentiment caused my brother’s marriage,” he added to make his point.

“I understand.” I said softly, offering a nod.

“Good.” Ivar replied, offering his own. “If you stick around, everyone will know you are mine. I must have faith in you, Lisbet.”

A shaky breath hissed its way through my lungs; my spine melted at the word ‘ _mine’_. I had to silently scold myself for the reaction – Ivar’s potential possessiveness wasn’t the most important part of this discussion.

“Especially now…” Ivar continued to murmur to himself more than me. “I shall return in time for the new term. In the meantime, I will do what I can to keep that woman anywhere from my Company.”

I couldn’t keep the whimper from escaping this time. It was shameful, but every time he mentioned something being his, or exuded his confidence and authority, a thick pleasurable wave coursed through the pit of my groin.

Ivar merely smirked at me, then reached over to slide his hand across my cheek. His palm was calloused and warm, and already my chest began to heave at the contact. His eyes darted over my face and I keened at the sensation it left me with.

“Do you enjoy when I talk like that, Lisbet?” He asked, voice husky. His face so close to mine now that his breath tickled my lips.

“Yes, Ivar,” I could barely whisper.

He hummed in approval, leaned in further to cover my lips with his in a chaste kiss. I was immediately whining, lips responding more eagerly than I would’ve cared to admit.

I somehow managed to find it in myself to pull away; examine his face through all my yearning. His perfectly shaped brows furrowed in question.

“Do you want me to stick around, Ivar?”

His lips parted, tongue darting out to wet his lower one. It was distracting enough that both of his hands clasping around my throat was a sudden shock; the strength of his grip forced a groan out of me.

“I daresay I do,” he said softly, then kissed me again.

My hands were quick in finding their way to the front of his shirt – fingers clenching into the fabric as Ivar’s lips melded with mine. He tugged me closer until I tipped off balance and sunk against his chest. I snaked my hands up to his shoulders and draped my arms over them, securing my hold so as to keep upright.

Our mouths rapidly fell in sync, opening against one another’s, tongues experimentally reaching out until they could tangle together. The sounds Ivar made were delightful; merely hearing his breathing become more and more labored had my eyes rolling back – then he growled and sucked my tongue into his mouth. Our first kiss was nothing compared to this. This was slow and heated, impassioned with Ivar’s openness to me. I’d lost all sense of time and awareness; nothing in that moment existed save for Ivar and his wandering hands. I could feel them roam down my waist, squeezing and rubbing till I shuddered against him. He wrapped one long arm around me, locking me to him, and his other hand just barely breezed over my ass before clasping around my hip.

In one swift motion, his hold on me clenched until I practically squealed into his mouth. Again, I found myself tearing away from his lips, gasping for breath. There was not a lick of space between us, he embraced me so tightly.

I looked at Ivar under heavy lids, giddy to see him in similar circumstance. He blinked slowly at me, breath cutting through his damp lips in little pants. My hands settled on the shaved scalp of his head – it was daunting to think how long I could’ve stayed like this, staring at his beautiful face.

We leaned in simultaneously, lips seeking each other once more. He was more aggressive this time, tongue instantly pressing into my mouth. Hands became greedy enough that I was actually fuming at being in this stupid car. I desired more space; I wanted to climb on top of him and to unbutton his shirt, feel the muscle under his smooth skin. I wished Cris would disappear so Ivar could have his way with me right here and now.

Ivar evidently wanted the same. His fingers pulled fruitlessly at my shirt, knowing what they wanted but couldn’t get it all the same. He groaned in frustration, the sound reverberating into my lips. We clutched helplessly around each other’s necks, holding ourselves still to pour every ounce of want and need through our mouths. Nothing had ever felt so good.

We both gasped as we were forced to break apart. Ivar abruptly tucked his face into the nook of my neck, ran his lips languidly over my skin while nuzzling his head against mine.

“Spend the night with me,” he urged breathlessly.

I mewled. Just his voice in my ear felt so erotic I could have come right then and there. But I didn’t want to feel rushed again. I wanted to take my time with him. All too well had I learned that we needed to be more careful; to not immediately take out our aggressions on one another so boldly. I had lots to think about, and more importantly, Ivar had just faced his mother’s killer…

“I shouldn’t,” I rasped out. I rubbed my hands back and forth over his shoulders, willing the friction from that to be enough for now.

“You don’t want to?” Ivar asked, then kissed below my ear.

“I didn’t say that.” Of course I wanted to. “But I need to think… And you have work to do.”

Ivar chuckled in my ear before retreating. He pressed his forehead on mine and closed his eyes, still breathing heavily.

“You make it very hard to think…” I confessed.

“The feeling is mutual.”

I didn’t realize how much I’d regret declining his offer until his arms slid from my body. I felt naked without his embrace now. Even worse, a knot twisted in my belly at the thought of having to endure yet another separation from him.

I quickly kissed him, a short peck on the lips once, twice, then a third which he held me to. His hands clasped to my face once more and he forced my lips to move slowly with his.

We were panting again by the time he released me. I backed away until hitting the door; it wouldn’t be much longer until I changed my mind and let him bring me home with him. And I had to stay strong. He looked as helpless as I felt while I stepped out of the car. I didn’t know what to say. Everything felt too final.

“Call me, okay?” I asked nicely. Ivar gave me a last half-smile and a single nod; I wasn’t sure if I could believe he would. “And be safe.”

He nodded again, seriously this time, and I shut the door before I could lose anymore focus.

On shaky legs, I walked around the corner for my bicycle, happy to have a breezy fifteen-minute ride home to clear my head. Could this have been too much for me? Would Ivar be worth everything that came with him? The secrets, and risks, and dangers… It was too soon to know, yet the thought of anything less made me feel sick. I already felt something like withdrawal as I started heading down the road on my bike.

One thing was for sure, it was without a doubt the most _surreal_ way I had ever been asked to be someone’s girlfriend.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ya'll may have noticed this is quite a transitional chapter. A lot happens. A lot of information comes out. A lot of things I may not necessarily elaborate on either if it doesn't pertain directly to events that'll come to take place. So as always, feel free to message me or what have you if you're curious about some of the goings on in this one! I hope ya'll enjoyed it, I both adore and am terrified of this chapter XD
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for all your continued support. I truly can't express how much it all means to me Xx.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably too long. Probably too much fluff. Hope you like it!! XD

 

The first time he called, I jumped out of my seat like a bat out of hell, immediately rushing outside to answer the phone. It was quick enough that I was breathing heavily as I picked up, but the thrill coursing through me at his name on the screen was too strong to allow myself to feel embarrassed.

“Am I interrupting something?” Ivar asked; sounding so goddamn calm as usual.

“N-no, I just…” I trailed pathetically, even released a nervous giggle. I’d been so eager just to hear the sound of his voice that I could literally feel my mind become void of coherent thought. But could I be entirely blamed? I didn’t like to think so…

Ivar had given me a window into his life now – more than ever before. I was left worrying about him for reasons beyond just his mental health. He was actively in danger and I was wholly lacking in shared experience to properly wager just how immediate a threat could be. All sorts of crazed scenarios generated in my thoughts, exacerbated by his long absence. It left me paranoid that Ivar could’ve befallen harm at any moment.

“Do you miss me?” he pondered, interrupting my silence. And for the first time, it was asked without a hint of snark or smugness.

I smiled against the phone. “Yes… I do,” I admitted freely. It felt downright strange to be in a position that I could freely admit _anything_ to Ivar, let alone any sort of… _intimate_ feelings. I was so used to being chastised whenever I displayed the slightest hint of affection toward him, that it felt new and exciting to suddenly be able to do it without duress. Was this how it would be between us from now on?

“I wish I could see you,” I added, deciding to test the waters.

Ivar responded with an almost simultaneous hum, sending a chill down my spine. “I admit, our timing was poor.

My stomach dropped, resulting in an ungraceful snort. “ _Your_ timing,” I corrected.

“ _Fine_ ,” Ivar said, feigning exasperation. “ _My_ timing.”

I was biting my lip, thankful he couldn’t witness the blush that was spreading over my cheeks, or the stupid grin I was trying to contain. Ivar fucking Lothbrok was _this_ close to being openly flirtatious and I found it positively unbelievable. It was enough to soothe my endless worry for him.

“Is that a _mistake_ you’re admitting to, Ivar?” I dared to tease – meanwhile lit a cigarette to help my nerves just a little. I’d given up on trying to become accustomed to Ivar’s effects on me. It was a lost cause.

“It will not happen again, I can assure you,” he chided. We both chuckled into the phone, then shared an awkward pause at how _unusual_ this interaction felt… To simply laugh with each other. Something so dissimilar to the workings of our history.

I forced myself to change the subject before we both got too caught up in it, reverted back to our ways of bickering and telling each other off.

“Ubbe is still with you, right?”

“Are you worried, Lisbet?”

I swallowed down the way his voice sounded through the phone, the way my name leaving his lips made me feel.

“Should I not be?”

“Enough questions, then.” Ivar said smoothly. “It will be better that way… Until I can see you again.”

For once, I found it easy to agree with him. Perhaps it’d be less stressful than having Ivar evade my questions over the phone. It would only make my presumptions worse. I could only hope that he’d be as open to me as he suggested once he returned. On the bright side, Ubbe was keeping in touch pretty frequently. He kept me updated where I’d hear nothing from his youngest brother or would check in simply to say hello. I don’t think he realized how appreciative I was of it.

“I will speak to you again, soon,” he announced. Then ended the call.

 

I had to admit, I was quite proud of myself for not holding too high of hopes that Ivar would call me on a regular basis. It wasn’t that I assumed he’d back out and never call me again – I didn’t really see him as the type to be so attached, anyway. It was just that he was so unpredictable that I couldn’t be sure if he was capable of being _reliable_. Especially given his habit of shunning me into silence – on more than one occasion - and just because he couldn’t handle being honest with me.

Then he just shows up at my job, whisks me away to a fucking Mob meeting, makes me an offer to be his – to be his –

It was just so confusing. He’d made such impactful admissions but I still couldn’t be sure of where I stood with him. Though I might’ve felt differently about it if he hadn’t left the country immediately after…

 

I didn’t hear from him again until a week prior to the start of term. By that point, I’d been packing to move back onto campus with Sofia. I’d already finished registering for classes and became concerned with whether or not Ivar had been just as prepared.

“Of course I registered, Lis’.” Ivar had snapped. Clearly offended that I’d dare to think otherwise.

“How do I know?” I argued defensively. “I don’t even know where you are.”

“I’m in Oslo,” he stated bluntly. I nearly choked, thoughts immediately drifting to Harald, knowing that he was sure to be in Ivar’s company. I didn’t like Harald. I liked the idea of Ivar being around him even less. I recalled Ubbe’s brief comment on needing spies in Oslo because they couldn’t trust him.

“It is all right,” Ivar reassured, somehow sensing my discomfort. “It has been mostly drinking and ass-kissing while we’re here. Harald is too caught up in his own ambition to try anything questionable with me. He needs me more than he would care to admit.”

Once again, I became bewildered at the sensation of fear and arousal at the same time. The way Ivar bounced between student and business man was all too enticing.

He became quiet for a moment. I tried to figure out what he may have been doing. Listened to the background noise. There was no distant chatter, no music or traffic, anything that might give me a hint. So, I pictured him halfway tucked into bed instead. It was around one in the morning, it was possible. And frankly, a lot more peaceful to picture than a nearby Harald.

“Is this too much?” He eventually asked.

I sat in consideration, wondering just how broad the spectrum of his question ran. But it was too late for me to start weighing pros and cons now; I was too tired at this hour to have the inner deliberation.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Even through the phone, I could sense Ivar closing up on me.

“I’ll see you, Lisbet.”

 

 

“So…”

“So?”

I could already sense what she was trying to ask. Sofia and I were back to living with each other; we’d spent a good portion of two days moving in to our new dorm room, unpacking boxes filled with our belongings and then some. The promotion in our year at Uni meant an upgrade in living space. We now had a wealthy living room, a full private bathroom, and a kitchen that separated our bedrooms – a kitchen with an actual stove and refrigerator that we didn’t have to rent second – probably fourth-hand from some sketchy supplier down the road.

The entire time it was so obvious she was trying to restrain herself from asking about Ivar. I’d dodged her questions easily over the summer break, not having to actually look her in the face. But her resolve finally cracked.

“So, what’s the deal with Ivar?” Sofia rushed out the question fast enough to make it seem like one seamless word.

Still, I was trying to avoid the subject. It was simple not to think of keeping anyone ‘in the know’ on what developed between Ivar and I. What was I to do, tell my parents? No. Ubbe was the only one I ever spoke to about Ivar. I never even considered discussing the matter with friends.

“What about him?” It was as vague as I could be without blurting something out. My poker face was decent but Sofia was my closest friend. If I set the right amount of attention on unloading dishes and silverware, perhaps she wouldn’t be able to call my bluff…

“Well – did you keep in touch all summer? You never said, but I know things became hectic with him during finals last term.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And what about what happened to his mother? Shit… When I found out, I felt _sick_. Y’know, my brother’s friend met her once – he used to work at the docks? He had nothing but nice things to say about her. Couldn’t believe that she…” she trailed, and I was thankful for it. “Did you see him after? Ivar, I mean.”

I was frozen at the countertop, one hand still gripping a plate inside the cabinet shelf above my head. My stomach was suddenly clenching uncomfortably as I recalled the chaos of this summer. Aslaug’s death. All that happened with Ivar. My depression. A _Mob_ meeting. It all came speeding to the forefront of my mind without any sense of grace. Felt like a sucker punch.

“Sofia -”

“You _did_ see him, didn’t you?” She accused; I could see the pointed finger over my shoulder. “Holy shit, I _knew_ something was going on! Everyone’s been asking -” She stopped momentarily as I turned around to glare at her. “Lis’! You have to tell me everything!”

“Sofia, I can’t.” I wanted to be patient with her. I wasn’t yet ready for this type of intrusive talk of Ivar. Especially with Sofia. I loved her – she was probably one of the few people in my life I could ever stand to live with. But I _loathed_ this side of her; the gab and the gossiper. I couldn’t trust her to keep anything I said private where he was concerned, and I couldn’t have that.

Her bright smile was rapidly fading and I interrupted her when she tried to speak again. “I _can’t_.”

It hurt to watch her shoulders slump, looking disappointed in me. I felt guilty at once.

“I’m sorry – I just -” I heaved a sigh, leaning against the counter to think of an explanation that would make her understand. “There _is_ something going on… But even _I_ can’t figure it out. Not yet. And I can’t have people prying. Whatever this is, it’s -”

“Complicated?” Sofia offered dryly.

“ _Yes_ ,” I urged. I went for another box – silverware this time – needing to keep my hands busy. “Ivar is…”

“Complicated.” She suggested again.

I gave her a look that said ‘ _that’s getting annoying_ ’. “Yes. And he’s not just some fling. And he’s _very private_.”

“ _You’re_ very private,” she retorted.

A weak laugh escaped despite myself. “I’m sorry,” I repeated earnestly. “I don’t mean to lie to you, but I can’t be an open book when it comes to him, either.”

Sofia pursed her lips, but whatever upset I caused her appeared to be ebbing away. “Fine.”

I relaxed, tension fading while she came to join me in front of the counter to peer at me, ginger hair falling into her eyes. “But is he actually your boyfriend now? Can I still call him that?”

My eyes rolled as I snorted. And frankly I didn’t know the answer to that one, either. The subject hadn’t been broached with Ivar on how to appropriately address the topic.

“Sure,” I gave in and she smiled gleefully before taking the box from my hands to unpack the rest. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“Good, because I have to admit, I was sort of enjoying the image of you two as a couple.” I couldn’t help but beam at the compliment; it was the first time someone alluded to us being a couple that actually felt _normal_. “You both are total nerds. Quite the pair, I’m sure. I can only imagine what your sex life would be like.”

Suddenly I was coughing; turned away from her so sharply I banged my hip into the corner of a drawer.

“You _didn’t_!” Sofia was gasping dramatically. I avoided her eye as I tried rubbing the pain away with my fist, still covering my mouth with the other as I hacked.

“Lisbet!”

I turned my back on her – made a beeline for my bedroom. Anything that had a door I could close on her. “No, now _this_ is what I have to - 

Her voice drowned out as I slammed the door shut behind me.

 

Later that night, I slouched over my bed after tossing in the towel on unpacking for the day. I’d done well enough. My school supplies were already organized over my desk – I always prioritized them first. Half of my clothes were hanging in the closet, the other half still a sloppy pile that was slipping from my suitcase more and more each time I looked at it. I managed to get the lights fixtured and the television hooked up, and flicked aimlessly through the whopping ten stations our expensive, upper-class school provided.

My thoughts inevitably drifted toward Ivar as I settled on some generic reality dating show. His plane was estimated to have arrived an hour or so ago. Another generous detail offered by Ubbe. Ivar might’ve been less inclined to socialize with me but Ubbe remained talkative as ever.

I pulled out my phone, opting to send him a text.

‘ _You boys make it back okay?_ ’

Within the next five minutes, he answered with three kissy-faced emojis. He could be so weird sometimes. I rolled my eyes as another text rolled through shortly after.

‘ _Incoming_.’

My face scrunched at the screen in confusion, not having a clue as to what he meant. But then my heart practically soared from my chest as there was a knock on the main door. A thumping dull enough that I might not have heard it over my racing heartbeat.

I sat up in bed to make sure I’d heard right – sure enough, someone was knocking on our door.

In a second, I was out of bed and leaving my room, hastily cast a wary eye out for Sofia as I made my way for the door. She could have been asleep, it was late enough, but it mattered not to me now. The deadbolt was quickly undone and I swung the door open, breath faltering as I took in the sight before me.

There Ivar stood in all of his glory, and there was naught I could do besides shake my head, an unreasonably large smile growing on my face. His lovely, piercing blue eyes seemed tired as we looked each other over.

“Ivar…” I was near breathless.

“Hello, Lisbet.”

I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth in attempt to contain myself, but it was impossible to resist the elation I felt. Just the Peacoat he wore elongated his form, emphasizing his height when he already towered over me. He was dressed casually beneath it, jeans and a navy cotton shirt. It was the only time I wasn’t remotely bothered at how remarkably underdressed I was in front of him, clad in only a camisole and baggy shorts. It was momentarily distracting, down to the long locks that framed his face; hair even longer than I’d last seen, and infinitely more sexy. I found myself having to lean against the door for support, tilting my head at him.

“I’m beginning to think you enjoy these grand entrances, Ivar,” I chastised playfully.

Ivar furrowed his brows at me, offering a measly shrug.

I cocked one of my own. “Always showing up unannounced?”

He pursed his lips, suddenly looking the slightest bit irritated. I tried not to laugh at him but I felt so giddy, as if his very presence made me lightheaded. Whether he chose to confess it or not, Ivar clearly had a thing for the dramatics.

“Will you let me in?” He snapped, albeit quietly. “Or will you just _ogle_ at me like that all night?”

Cranky he was, but not even that would slight my mood. I stepped back from the door and gestured in the direction of my bedroom, rolling my eyes when he cast a judgmental appraisal over our dorm. I locked up again and followed him, suddenly becoming anxious. It was another surreal experience, following Ivar inside. My eyes stayed glued to him as I shut the door, closing us in the small confinement.

He helped himself to a seat on the edge of my bed and propped his crutches against the desk behind it before shrugging his backpack from his shoulders. It was placed on the ground, then he removed his jacket and slung it neatly over the corner of my headboard.

I had to force myself to look away. He was too fucking attractive to even attempt to think straight and it did nothing to help, the way he just made himself comfortable. Like we’d done this a thousand times. What was it we were doing, exactly?

His shirt clung too tightly, the sleeves three-quartered, showing off the muscles of his forearms that only tempted me further to inspect his even stronger looking hands.

“So,” he said, nodding his head at the room. “This is what the dorms look like.”

“Have you not ever been in one?” I asked curiously, still stuck to my spot in front of the door. I felt like if I got any closer I might do something… inappropriate.

“A few times First year.” He gave a dismissive shrug. “Nothing memorable.”

I couldn’t help the wry grin pulling at my lips as I crossed my arms, mind at once going somewhere… inappropriate.

Ivar noticed, of course. The corner of his own lip twitched. He settled on his palms, tilting his head back till his throat was exposed. Like he was putting himself on display. I swallowed hard and he rolled his jaw.

“Do not fret,” he said in a honeyed voice. “Your bedroom is far more impressive.”

He hardly had to _try_ to make me melt and yet here I was. A fucking puddle. I hid my grin behind my hair as I crossed the room to sit beside him, shyly tucking my knees beneath my chin. I could feel Ivar look me up and down, lean toward me until his mouth hovered beside my temple. He appeared to be smelling me.

“You are fidgeting.”

His voice in my ear made me swoon; I turned to face him a little too quickly, leaving me with nothing to look at but his mouth.

“Sorry, I -” I was too flabbergasted to think of anything reasonable to say. Ivar was back – Ivar was _here_ , body heat radiating into my side. It was overwhelming and I couldn’t think straight.

All too soon, he was rearing back, putting enough space between us that I pouted.

“I am…” He trailed and raised his hand in gesture of the room. “Being too forward.”

“No, no -”

“It is late,” he was rambling on. “You don’t want me here.”

“Ivar, _no_.” I peered at him through squinted eyes. “You _are_ cranky, aren’t you?”

A raspy chuckle cut through his throat and he tucked his hair behind his ear, body slumping again. It was easier to see now, up close, how haggard he looked. There was a hint of shadow beneath his eyes – more so than usual. And his movements were sluggish, not as deliberate as they usually were.

“I am tired. Can I spend the night with you?”

His lack of segue threw me off, but then I felt undeniably pleased. I was biting my lip again, turned my face away from him to regain composure of my facial expressions. Nevertheless, I reached out to coax my hand around his forearm. His skin was soft under my fingertips and just for a moment I was able to lose focus on the feel of it. Better still that he didn’t pry himself away from my touch.

“How was your trip?” My eyes sought his face again once I recovered.

“Better than I thought it would be,” Ivar intoned. He was leaning toward me again and I couldn’t help but do the same, still absentmindedly petting his arm, until our faces were few inches apart. “They will have a harder time taking what belongs to me.”

There it was again – speaking of things so possessively that I quivered from head to toe. It seemed we were both distracted by our closeness; if my face looked anything like his, then I would’ve appeared to be drunk. Perhaps it was his tiredness. I didn’t quite frankly care to differentiate.

“We can discuss it tomorrow,” he suggested. “Right now, I would just… like to lay with you.”

I saw no point in arguing. If his sleepiness was to blame for his current endearing nature, I would do nothing to stop it. I’d never seen him in such a state; the more he fluttered his eyelashes at me, looking ready to drop at a moment’s notice, looking _so damn adorable_ , the more I wanted to curl around him and stay there forever. A startling thought, but something I couldn’t deny.

“That is, if you will have me.” Only when I heard the edge to his tone did I realize I hadn’t actually told him he could spend the night. “I could have Cris come back.”

I shook my head right away. “I don’t want Cris to come back,” I whispered.

It was hard to garner his reaction, but he set his forehead on mine, closing his eyes with a tired sigh.

“Good.”

Without more pressing, I pulled away from him to climb across the bed, between him and the wall. I unplugged the string of lights strewn across the ceiling, casting the room in darkness save for the television. Ivar’s backside sent a shadow over me and I tried to calm myself as I pulled back the blanket and slid beneath it. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I patted the space next to me.

“Come lay down.”

Ivar looked at me over his shoulder; I could just barely see his face in the dark, but he appeared so contemplative, almost pained. But before I could say anything else, he was stripping off his shirt, leaving his torso clad only in a thin undershirt. His shoulders looked enormous under the thin straps. Even more alluring with his tattoos peeking out in the darkness.

The shirt was folded and set on the floor; I noticed the slightest hesitation as he reached for his pants. Countless times, I was curious as to what his legs looked like – I still hadn’t known what his condition was. Now was obviously not the time to ask, but all the same, I wanted him to feel comfortable enough to disrobe in front of me. I stayed quiet as he ran his hands through his hair and over his face before unclasping his pants. He held himself up with one hand to get them over his rear, then shifted them down his thighs and over his knees. He folded them as well once they were off, and set it aside with his shirt.

He hoisted himself further back on the mattress and grasped beneath his knees, effortlessly shifting his legs the rest of the way onto the bed. They were so thin and frail, completely unproportionate to anything above the bottom hem of his boxer briefs. Knobby at the knees. I found them to be quite pretty, with skin so soft and untouched that it shone against the light of the television.

He pivoted in my direction, pulling at the blanket to drape it over himself when he noticed me staring. Perched upon his elbow, he froze.

I didn’t want him to have a single iota of doubt. “C’mere,” I said, beckoning him to me with a hand and a reassuring smile. I couldn’t stand another second with him so close and yet so distant.

There was the slightest quirk to his lips, face relaxing as he gently lowered himself on top of me. My breath hitched at his sudden weight and warmth; his arms splayed on either side of my head and he let out a deep groan, nuzzling his mouth into my jaw. I keened as I drew my arms around his waist, squeezing him hard, just to hear him emit the slightest growl. I’d never felt so attached to him – so able to believe that perhaps what we shared was something _real_ , and for once not one-sided.

“You are trembling…” he murmured. Hot breath on the side of my face did nothing to settle me.

I could feel him start to slump; it wouldn’t be long until he passed out, I wagered.

And just when I started drifting, he was moving again. Sliding himself down my body until his head came to rest at the swell of my breasts. His back rose and fell as he heaved another sigh, hands adjusting to frame my waist.

 _Fuck_. It was slightly terrifying how all doubts and pent up emotions just flew right out the window by Ivar’s doing. I’d been in his company for not even an hour with him on top of me and I’d never felt more at ease, steadily feeling as tired as he was. I ran my fingers through his hair, nestling a loose grip in his tresses. He gave one last nuzzle into my chest and it was not long after that he fell asleep in my arms.

 

 

Upon waking some hours later, my first thought was how glad I was to have remembered to bring blackout curtains to school. Just from the birds chirping outside, I could tell how early it was. I may have forgotten to turn the television off, but it’s grey light was subtle compared to what was probably a glaring sun outside.

I moved around in attempt to find the remote and turn it off when I went still, registering one sturdy arm beneath my waist, the opposite hand clenching snugly onto my hip.

“Careful…” Ivar rasped into my ear, mouth surprisingly close to the back of my head. A rush of adrenaline seeped through my limbs, having almost forgotten that Ivar was in bed with me. The night before felt like a distant, sweet dream, having felt so blissful at receiving Ivar at my dorm in the middle of the night. After having spent so long separated from him.

“Hm?”

In its stupor, my body wanted nothing more than to writhe against him. He was so goddamn warm and I was so unaccustomed to having him wrapped around me. I searched blindly across the length of arm that poked out between me and the mattress, then tangled my fingers with his. I released a happy sigh, lids becoming heavy with sleep again. Still yearning to be closer, I tried rocking back into him only to feel the hand on my hip clench even tighter.

“Lis’…”

“Yeah…?”

 “Stop wiggling against me like that.”

Begrudgingly, my eyes creaked open in attempt to make sense of what he was trying to say. I was still so tired. What small part of me was coherent simply found itself enjoying the sound of Ivar’s croaky voice. I made one last attempt to lean back against his chest, wanting to get a better sample of it.

A strangled sound squeezed through his throat in response. The hand on my hip wound tightly over my belly instead, locking me in place. His fingers squeezed harder around my own.

“If you don’t stop squirming…” He let out a low groan, and only then could I feel something solid pressing into my ass. “I am trying to be respectful here.”

There was no stopping my giggle.

So – this was what it was like to wake up with Ivar. There had been a black hole in the depths of my mind that would wander to the morning I woke alone in his bed. I had yet to be able to shake the feeling since… Yet now, I could feel the hole closing up, our current predicament already becoming a durable sealant.

“You think this funny, huh?” Ivar asked dryly.

It was hard not to. I was still working on becoming more alert and Ivar’s lack of composure was nothing short of amusing. It was about time he didn’t have the upper hand. I closed my eyes again with a contented sigh. “Ivar Lothbrok with morning wood? A little, yes.”

His arms were quick to tighten around me in retaliation, strength overpowering as he squeezed the air from my lungs until I was entirely flush against him and no longer feeling smug. His erection nestled right into the cleft of my ass, feeling so stiff and threatening that a rush of heat flooded my groin. My body was always hypersensitive in the morning; it’s why I enjoyed the occasional morning sex. Ivar… Ivar emboldened the sensation. I had wanted him desperately for months; had merely fantasized about feeling his body the way I could feel it now.

“I cannot help it,” he conceded, not loosening his hold on me for a second. I held his forearms tightly in my grasp in attempt to ground myself. I almost wanted him to be gentler with me. His movements – even the slightest feel of lips grazing my temple - were so swift and sudden that I felt stuck in a whirlwind, quickly overwhelmed.

“A near month surrounded by thugs and businessmen. Unable to touch what I really wanted…” He unraveled his right arm to run his hand across my breasts and down my stomach, intensifying the throbbing that already bloomed between my thighs. “Did you enjoy talking to my brother while I was away?”

“ _Ivar_.” I scoffed, ripped from my trance. His chest rumbled against my back but he said no more, making it impossible to tell if he was truly upset or not. I was amid squirming in his hold to snap back at him when he grabbed me by the jaw and turned my head to look up at him. His facial expression didn’t divulge any more than his words did.

“It could’ve been _you_ ,” I declared hastily.

Ivar’s face softened in a way that made my annoyance subside, as if all he needed was the quick reassurance. His eyes darted over me; he still looked so sleepy and dreamy that I couldn’t help but deem that I’d never seen anyone quite as beautiful as he. His thick hair was a rumpled mess, crusts still lingered in the corners of his eyes, and his lips were the slightest bit chapped. He ran his tongue through them both while a sigh gusted through his nostrils, making them flare.

“You are right.”

There was maybe half a second where I was shocked that he would relent so easily, but then he flicked my upper lip with his tongue. Half a second more that I was concerned over my morning breath before all was forgotten as he kissed me.

Each time I thought things couldn’t become more intense between us, Ivar managed to prove me wrong. His lips smothered mine, hand coming to grip beneath my jaw, fingertips sharply tugging the hair at the nape of my neck. A most pathetic whimper escaped me as he pressed his tongue into my mouth. Even the taste of it first thing in the morning was the complete opposite of off-putting – if anything, I felt it even hotter that he could be so unbothered by such a thing.

My shoulder ached as it twisted to reach around myself to grip onto the side of his face, and his head tilted to reciprocate, body pressing harder against mine.

For a moment, everything faded save for Ivar and the noises our kissing brought; huffed breaths, light groans, the shifting of sheets as we struggled to get our hands on each other. I absolutely reveled in the way his body moved with mine, with a hand so demanding it was already slipping beneath my camisole to feel at my breast. It was daunting to comprehend – would Ivar’s body continue to be at my leisure now? Would I be able to kiss him as I pleased, writhe against him, embrace him whenever I wanted?

Could I openly moan for him as I did now? His actions filled my stomach with butterflies, and beads of sweat blossomed over my forehead and between my thighs. It was as if no time passed between now and our last encounter, tangled together in the backseat of his car - and without a doubt, no less passionate.

But just as I began to turn in his grasp, he tore his lips from mine with a grunt. He left me in a breathless state; his heavy gaze making an otherwise normal bodily function that much more difficult. I ran my fingertips over his cheek, settling at the sharp corner of his jaw. His eyes had never appeared so complicated to me. Pupils were dilated orbs within a sea of bright blue, but they were so wide that if it weren’t for the way he kept handling me, pressing his hips eagerly into my backside, I would have thought he was scared.

“What is it, Ivar?”

“I must know, Lisbet…” He started, voice almost whiny, looming over me so closely our mouths were touching. “Tell me your decision. Do you think this is too much?”

Part of me wanted to curse him then. Did he really think it possible for me to turn him away now, in our current entanglement? That I could simply remove his hand from my tit and tell him to leave, after spending a night in his arms? He knew how I felt about him, knew the effect he had on me. Could probably imagine the cloudy haze that my mind was encompassed with now. He wasn’t near stupid enough to think I’d still reject him.

As soon as he walked through my door last night, sat on my bed and asked to lay with me, I knew what my decision was. Felt it with more clarity than probably any other moment of our relationship. Regardless of the hardships I could barely fathom this would bring, I knew what I wanted.

“No, Ivar,” I breathed. I wrapped my fingers around the strap of his undershirt and clenched it in my fist. “I want you.”

Ivar’s eyes clenched shut; he let out a pained noise as he lowered his head to kiss me again. His tongue slid its way through my mouth before he shifted, propped himself up on his elbow. I lay flat on my back in his absence, but he was quick to nuzzle his lips into the crook of my neck. It craned from the sensation; goosebumps littered my flesh. His fingers started pulling persistently at my shirt. “I don’t know what I would have done -” he admitted between kisses, “- if you had said otherwise.”

I moaned at the confession; it still hadn’t sunk in that Ivar could have such feelings for me but now wasn’t the time to gather my thoughts. I yelped as he twisted my nipple between his fingers. He was already moving down my body, glossing down the length of my neck, over my shoulder, stopping so he could pull aside my camisole and free my breast. “And I am tired of being polite.”

A chill shot down my spine at the sound of Ivar’s weary voice dropping even lower. Under fluttering lashes, I peered at him just in time to see him bare his teeth and take a mouthful of my breast. I wriggled beneath him, back arching with a high pitched mewl as I felt his tongue twirl around my nipple. He rubbed at the other through my shirt before roaming down my stomach; my hips jerked in his direction, body seeking more of his touch. Without reluctance, he grasped onto the waistband of my shorts and started tugging – went back for my underwear, then dragged both garments down my thighs until I could kick them from my legs.

His coarse palm stroked my sensitive skin, lingering on my thighs to caress them, looking as if he were hypnotized.

We both halted at a sudden clanging noise beyond my door.

I’d completely forgotten about Sofia. She was rummaging through the kitchen, and though I stayed still trying to listen, Ivar carried on with his ministrations.

“Pleasantries of a dorm room,” he quipped, then spread my legs apart. His cock pressed into the side of my right thigh. I was beginning to tremble, watching little pants trickle from his throat as he soothed his hand over my pelvis. He licked his lips and I had to bite my own to keep from groaning loudly. I’d already been so turned on, it was no surprise to feel the slickness between myself and his hand once he rubbed through the crevice of my thighs.

“Fuck, Lisbet,” Ivar cursed, having found me in such a state.

I grabbed onto his wrist, adding pressure where he deemed it necessary to tease me so. My hips were quick to keep up with his hand in their demand for more friction. Ivar was so controlling I half-expected him to scold me. Instead, his body twitched beside me and his fingers sought for their goal, dragging between the lips of my pussy before rubbing the tips into my clit.

I almost screamed when there was a knock at the door. I froze once more – Ivar not so much. If anything, he became more aggressive with his ministrations. He masterfully circled my clit until I held onto his wrist with both hands, my mouth hanging open in silent plea, torn between making him stop and urging him on when it felt _too_ good.

“Lis’, I’m getting some breakfast from the Hall,” Sofia called. I imagined between myself, Ivar, and the television, she assumed I’d been awake.

I couldn’t respond at first. Ivar’s hand twisted in my grip to press his digits at my entrance while his thumb continued its assault on my now swollen clit. I could feel insatiable heat brewing inside the pit of my groin, hoped to god Sofia wouldn’t be outside the door to hear me orgasm.

Ivar glanced up at me, a wicked smirk growing at my facial expression. Without stopping his hand, he slid down to lay beside me, looking more and more amused the closer he got to me.

“You should answer her,” he insisted. His lips parted and he looked thoughtful for a moment, and a second later I was choking down a wail as he slipped one, then quickly a second finger inside me. I whipped my head to the side, burying my face into one of the pillows.

“Do you want anything?” Sofia asked.

I wanted to slap Ivar as he chuckled. He was quickly developing a rhythm with his digits, slowly pulling them out of me before rapidly plunging them in, burying them to his knuckles. With his free hand, he grabbed the back of my neck and forced me to look up at him. He was grinning with sharp teeth, almost malicious in his mischief.

“I – I’m okay, thanks -!” I was cut short by his thumb, flicking and rolling around my inflamed bundle of nerves until I was certain I’d bite through my lip in order to keep quiet. There was a suspenseful moment where I was horrified to think she might open the door, but then –

“See you.”

The front door slammed shut a moment later, but my sigh of relief turned into a shriek as Ivar buried his fingers deep enough inside for me to curl into the fetal position. I could hear the sound of them plunging repeatedly into my wetness until my thighs snapped shut around our arms. He made a disapproving noise and tried prying them back open but it was too late; I released a wild moan as I came, back arching from the bed and body shaking with tremors.

My legs eventually relaxed enough to unclamp and free Ivar’s hand.

“You are a fucking -” ‘Piece of work’ was what I meant to say before he raised his hand and sucked on his fingers. My mouth fell open, completely bewildered as he licked up my taste.

Ivar raised a brow at me, pouting as he suckled around each finger. “You were saying?”

I would’ve growled if I wasn’t so determined to be touching him again. In all my shaking, I shoved all my body weight into his chest to get him on his back. I threw my leg over him to hover above his crotch, palms pressed down on his meaty chest. My mouth watered at the very sight of him.

He looked up at me with dark eyes glaring as I settled above him.

I was straddling Ivar Lothbrok… I had wanted this for so long, wanted his body, and now he was granting it to me. It felt like _this_ was our first time – not remotely similar to the way he had taken me before. My gaze raked over his body. Muscles looked soft and tender under his shirt. Hair splayed over my pillow. His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed heavily, and lips parted as he breathed.  I didn’t dare waste another moment.

Ivar’s arms folded around me as quickly as I flattened myself over his torso. Our hair mussed in both our hands, and we were kissing instantly, groaning in unison as our mouths opened and tongues hungrily tangled with each other. It was ravaging – lips mashing together so harshly that our teeth clashed and clanged, hard enough to cause them to swell.

I couldn’t breathe by the time we tore apart but I still couldn’t stop. I moved for his neck, fighting against the painful grip he twisted in my hair to sink my teeth into his neck. Hearing him gasp as he squeezed even tighter around me was one of the most satisfying sounds I’d ever heard.

For once, I’d been given liberty to have at him and I needed to touch every bit of him. I mouthed across the width of his neck, urged on by his low groan. I sucked and teased with my tongue, unable to decide which I enjoyed more – the sheer taste of him or the sounds he was making in response.

“Lis’,” he hissed, forcing me to shiver.

I went for his undershirt next; Ivar arched his back from the mattress as I started tugging it up the length of his torso. The skin of his stomach was so soft that I couldn’t help but rake my nails over each inch I exposed. His abs contracted with what sounded like a chortle, making me _coo_ against his chest.

Ivar obliged me once I had the shirt just below his chin. He pulled it from his arms as I already busied myself with kissing his taut body, blindly seeking his nipple with my lips. The palms of my hands were roaming aimlessly over him when I nipped the bead between my teeth – Ivar jerked violently from under me, a growl resonating in his chest.

He took hold of my biceps, gripping tightly in what perhaps was an attempt to still me, but _fuck_ , I couldn’t stop, he just felt so _good_. I went on to trace his nipple with my tongue, sucked at meaty flesh surrounding it until hands latched onto my hips. He quickly thrust upward while tugging me down and ground his erection into my pelvis – we both moaned loudly at the contact.

It was impossible to keep my hips still after that. I rolled over him again and again with the guidance of Ivar’s grip, whimpering at the feel of his hard cock pressing into me every time.

“ _God dammit_ , Ivar,” I moaned shamelessly, gasping hoarsely when he drew his hand back and spanked me.

I sat up to look at him, giggling at the cheeky grin on his face.

“I prefer to be on top,” he said through bated breath.

Why was I not surprised? I ignored him anyway. Instead pulled my camisole off. I’d hardly shaken my hair free when Ivar bolted upright, secured my legs around his waist so that our privates nestled together. He was so fucking hard that just the pressure of his cock, his briefs being the only thing between us, was enough to have me a whimpering mess.

His palms slid up my back, and he was kissing me, leaving me breathless again. Our bodies melded snugly together, only separating when we needed air.

“I should have asked the first time,” Ivar was suddenly saying, mouth at my collarbone. His groping hands were so distracting, it was hard to simply focus on his words. “Are you on birth control?”

A shiver rolled its way down my spine; I could feel myself grow wetter by the question. Partly because he was voicing his intentions but also because I’d loved this smart and responsible side of him.

I nodded against his head and it was joint effort on getting his underwear down his legs with me still cinched over him. A rushed mess of heavy breathing and sweaty limbs, and Ivar was hoisting me up against his abdomen, then lowering me gently, slowly filling me with his cock. I shouted out as I sank on top of him while Ivar buried his face against my neck with a sob.

We stilled for a moment, grasping tightly at each other before moving again. Then Ivar snapped his hips into mine so suddenly, I squealed. It was implausible that I could’ve forgotten how big and thick he was, yet here I was, becoming slack on top of him as he thrust into me again.

Ivar growled as he set his pace, drilling into me from below until his moans were just as loud as mine.

“You feel so _fucking good_ ,” he murmured before running his tongue over my neck. He sucked a spot into me that was bound to be purple later, hands digging into my waist hard enough to leave the same color in their wake.

“ _Ivar_ ,” I cried again, shuddering so abruptly at his next thrust that I tossed my head back, barely staying upright if it weren’t for my nails digging into his shoulders. He was halfway through gritting my name out when he took a mouthful of by breast, sucked viciously around my plump flesh.

He plunged deeper inside me as he tightened my legs around him, then deftly turned us over to smother me onto the mattress. I squealed at his sudden weight, wailed as he drove his cock inside me hard enough to make my teeth clatter. It took much effort to hold on, to keep up with his thrusts as he rammed into me again and again. There was no containing my volume now and I wasn’t remotely concerned with anyone who could hear me, either. No man had ever made me feel so good.

I marveled at him, watching him pick himself up on his hands, rope his arm behind one of my knees and pull till my thigh was parallel with my torso. He lowered himself, crushing me beneath him, tilting my hips in such a way that his next thrust had me screeching, nearly making me come in an instant.

Ivar groaned in my face, eyes beaded and dark, feeling me tighten around him. “Are you going to come for me again, Lis’?” He asked, voice so husky that goosebumps rose through the sheet of sweat that covered my body. Just the way he stared down at me could’ve sent me over.

“ _Fuck_ , _yes_ , Ivar…” I wheezed out.

He sunk his cock into me again, keeping the same strength and pace; I would’ve been flailing if he hadn’t had me pinned to the bed in such a way. I clutched onto him for dear life, gasping as he drilled through my hips over and over until I was coming again – lightning flashing behind my eyes. His weight kept me down but I was frantically crying out; finally chomped down on his arm to stifle my noise.

Ivar fucked me through it; cock made me so sensitive it almost hurt but I needed to feel him come. I was reeling at this point, so overcome with a tingling bliss that I simply took hold of him. Clutched him to my chest when he released my leg and dug two fists into the sheets beside my head.

He was shaking on top of me, hips like a piston until they spasmed so suddenly that he burst with a strangled shout, grunted roughly through his orgasm, only to collapse with a satisfied huff.

My heart was racing and I was certain I could feel Ivar’s echoing against it. We lay there. Spent. I didn’t care that it was slightly too hot and too damp. I reveled in the feel of his cock still inside me… softening as we crashed.

 

Not long after, and we were half watching the television, half touching and kissing each other, still a tangled pile as if we weren’t sore from sex. I finally brought myself to ask –

“What is your… condition, Ivar?” I paused, gauging his reaction. “Is that the right word?”

It took a moment for him to answer, though I didn’t think he was annoyed with me. “It is a disease,” he finally said softly, voice still writ with exhaustion. “Osteogenesis Imperfecta.”

Never had I heard of it, could only recognize the term relating to bones. I’d be sure to research it when I had the chance.

“What does that mean?” I asked a little too bluntly. I’d always had a fascination in medical studies, and I hated to admit how much intrigue I always felt surrounding his legs. It seemed inappropriate and so wrongly timed; I didn’t want to be insensitive toward him.

Ivar sucked on his lip and lay back, making me frown until he pulled me to his chest. “My legs are useless. They hold no density and are too fragile.”

I ran a hand across his stomach while snuggling into his side. It was doubtable to think I could ever keep my hands off of him.

“Is that painful, then?”

“Always,” Ivar replied solemnly. His knuckles were absentminded on my shoulder blade, light as feathers as they brushed my skin. “It was worse as a kid. But I received IV treatment to help with it.”

“What about now?” I pressed, peering up at him. “Besides physical therapy, I mean.”

“Filled with questions, huh? Ever the doctor.” His eyes were glaring and there was a slight bite to his words, but he sighed anyway, drumming his fingers on my back as he looked away. “A balance between growth hormones and steroids. It’s incurable but… helps with the pain and I won’t suffer a break as easily. And now I can at least get around with crutches. I _hate_ the chair. Makes my legs stiff and has me looking like -”

He quickly cut himself off, evidently reaching his quota on divulging personal information for this conversation. It was tempting to compel him to continue, but I knew better and became quiet as I processed. Then – “Does that mean when I was on top -”

“If you mean to suggest you won’t ride me again, I’ll not hear a word of it.”

My jaw unhinged. The way Ivar spoke, his choice of words alone, never ceased to amaze me. Already, he was moving on. Found the remote and switched off the television. “Show me your schedule.”

“What?”

Ivar rolled his eyes. “Your _classes_ , Lisbet.”

“Oh… right.” I clambered to my knees, feeling silly. I clutched the sheet to my chest as I reached over the railing of my headboard and scooted my laptop over until I could get a good enough grip to pick it up. There was a sudden draft and I looked down to find Ivar tugging at the sheet. I smacked his hand away before settling back beside him.

“Cheeky.” I scolded, then opened my laptop to boot it up. His fingers pinched the sheet again in attempt to reveal my breasts and I smacked him once more.

He scoffed but gave up. Leaned over the edge of the bed to get his own laptop from his backpack.

I had to pause to savor the image of the two of us lying in bed together naked, computers on our laps, to go over our agendas.

“No Geog?” I sat up in disbelief.

Ivar growled. “Fucking waiting list.”

“Waiting list?” My eyes went wide. “ _You_?”

He frowned with an exaggerated sag of his shoulders. “ _Apparently_ first slots for the class I want are prioritized for _Majors_.” I might’ve laughed at the mockingly high pitch of his voice if I didn’t understand how much he loved Geography.  “Might have to coerce someone into dropping it.”

I didn’t dare to ask if he was joking or not.

“Are you doubling up?” He asked curiously, pointing at my screen.

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. My workload would definitely be more intense now but I still anticipated it with some excitement. “My Counselor says it’ll look better when I apply for Med school.”

Warm breath fanned across my temple. I found Ivar looking – no – _admiring_ me. That had to be what was in his eyes… With a small smile on his face. My heart was warming at the sight of it. I could feel my cheeks heating with a flush.

“ _Good_ girl,” he praised, voice reverberating.

My gaze was already drifting to his mouth. _Fuck_ … I wanted him again already.

“You want to kiss me, don’t you, Lisbet?” Of course, he would catch me. I turned bashful and bit my bottom lip. “You can.”

Ivar looked so fucking pleased with himself, but I couldn’t give a shit, was already pushing my computer off my lap so I could lean my whole body against him, grip his face in my hands and guide his mouth to mine. He was so deft at drawing a moan from me. Snaked his arms around my torso and pulled until I was halfway over his chest. The sound of lips smacking filled the room as our lips parted and we teased each other with the tips of our tongues.

“Perhaps,” Ivar mumbled between kisses. “We should resume in the library.”

“Huh?” I ran my fingers through his hair, wanting him to stop talking.

“To study. This will be -” he paused to suck on my lip. “- Problematic.”

Leave it to him to be thinking of our study sessions already… Not that I hadn’t thought of them, too, but _typical_ just the same.

“I like your room.”

Ivar hummed into my mouth. “And I like you in it,” he breathed, squeezing me tight. “Will you come home with me today?”

“ _Yes_.”

There was no hesitation as I said it; I still had two days left before class started and if we were to spend more time together before then, that was fine by me. I was just about to climb on top of him when the bedroom door swung open.

We parted with a start – only to find Sofia standing in the doorway, struggling to hold four overflowing grocery bags and a carton of milk. She looked almost as shocked as I did – quickly ripping the blanket up to my neck. Ivar simply sat there, chest bare, looking calm as ever except for when I tried to pull from his clutches.

“I _knew_ it!”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for the continual support! I hope you enjoy this one!!

I might’ve thought it hard to brush off Sofia’s questions and curious looks – especially when I had to leave Ivar alone with her in the kitchen to take a shower. I wound up finding them in absolute silence, Ivar drumming his fingers, sat at the table across from her while she ate. But in retrospect, it was much harder enduring the stares from the rest of the student body.

It hadn’t been a smart idea to allow Ivar to drive me back to campus on the first morning of classes. It was downright _foolish_ to lean through the passenger window to offer him a quick peck on the mouth after he’d thrown my forgotten cardigan at me. I hadn’t given it a spare thought; it seemed a reflex, as if I’d been doing it for months already. Even Ivar looked taken aback.

What could I say? I was smitten. After a weekend at the Lothbrok Estate, I had fucking bluebirds tweeting circles around my head…

The problem was that our timing coincided with the majority of my building filing outside to start their day. A trail of curses was left in my wake as I stomped through the wall of onlookers. I would have to rein it in in the future, needed to be in better control of myself.

I pulled it together well enough to change into my uniform, gather my belongings and speed off to my first class of the new term.

As reality sunk in, I began to feel tense. Usually the first week was the easiest, as orientation usually took up most of the syllabi. But now I was to receive twice as much work and assignments, twice as many exams, and half the time to confront each subject effectively. It took some pep talking on my walk across campus to remind myself that I knew I was capable of it all.

 

The day felt strange, seeing so little of Ivar when our schedules had been near identical for two years. From here on out, we’d be further led in separate directions as we honed in on our focuses. Something I found mildly disappointing until our sole class together began.

Differential Equations - a subject I expected to be dreadfully boring but had to endure in order to receive my required two credits for the term. Ivar needed more than twice that for his Business major. The shared class was one of three Maths blocks for him during this term alone.

I tried not to react as he entered the classroom; it was enough that multiple pairs of eyes immediately darted in his direction. I was more than well aware of how gossip followed Ivar and his family. But I was soon realizing how much worse it’d be now, given the events of the summer. Aslaug had died – had been _murdered_. Press had never publicly announced how or why, or if there were any suspects. And I could only imagine how quickly the rumor mill was circling - if it was anything comparable to how wildly it spun around Ragnar’s death. I couldn’t believe the possibility hadn’t yet crossed my mind…

But if any of this had an effect on Ivar, he didn’t show it. He was the epitome of calm and grace as he carried himself smoothly across the room with a hard-set gaze of steel. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. Ivar, in his freshly ironed uniform, unintentionally wooing me as if I hadn’t watched him get dressed earlier that morning. The navy-blue blazer and tie that had never looked so dashing on anyone else. Each and every part of my body that was still sore, tender, or the slightest bit bruised by Ivar’s doing throbbed with longing as I watched him. He was absolutely right – this would be problematic.

Though, in typical Ivar fashion, he hardly paid me any mind as he took the vacant seat two rows ahead. And for once, I was content with that. My lack of focus didn’t need encouragement, and there was a shift of weight as our classmates’ stares locked onto me instead of him. _They_ didn’t need encouragement, either.

 

As promised, our studying sessions resumed in the library. There was something so nostalgic about the two of us studying there together that at first, I was unbothered by the change in location. Joyful even. To think of where we stood the last time we sat at that very table, nestled in the back corner and tucked away from anyone else, just like we used to. It left me basking in the progression of our relationship. So much so that I quickly slipped back into old habits.

“Enough of that, Lisbet,” Ivar said suddenly, startling me from my trance. His eyes had been glued to the laptop in front of him, fingers typing away at such a speed that I’d have thought he was well distracted. How silly of me.

My eyes narrowed at him and my lips pursed before setting my attention back to my Bio textbook. I rifled through its pages with more aggression than intended. Some things would never change, I supposed.

But soon enough, I became even more distracted, and it had less to do with Ivar – more to do with the prying eyes of the students surrounding us. After an hour or so, it chipped away at the sense of solitude that Ivar never failed to provide me. It was why I preferred to be alone with him. Preferred his bedroom. Any potential privacy in the library was interfered with by our nosy classmates.

“If we could just -”

“No.”

I huffed. “You didn’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You need to focus, Lis’,” he said sternly. “As do I.”

“Believe it or not, _you_ aren’t the only thing making it hard to focus,” I retorted. What did he think? That I’d abandon assignments altogether to fulfill my want of his body? Not that he would let me have it, anyway... Not when there was work to be done.

He finally peered at me from over his laptop. I made a vague gesture toward the rest of the library, and he offered it his appraisal. It startled many people; heads whipped the other way around and conversations were abruptly hushed. Ivar’s nostrils flared in response. For a moment, he appeared so irate that it seemed as if he might snap at someone, but instead he shook his head and looked back at me.

“Part of the package, yes?” He asked. I pouted… but he made a good point. This was something I’d have to deal with if I wanted to be with Ivar. I was to get used to it, even if that meant being stared at. I nodded, and he returned the gesture, watching me as I brought myself to carry on with my readings.

“Besides,” he added unexpectedly. “If you behave like a good girl, perhaps I will reward you.”

I cocked a brow before glancing at him. “ _Hm_?”

“You heard me,” he said, looking smug. A small smile played with Ivar’s lips, but I didn’t want to fall for it so easily. I set my elbow on the table and leaned in, still feeling skeptical.

“What about the rules?”

Ivar tutted at me. “It will have to wait, of course.” I scoffed. Should’ve known. We’d agreed to – well – _Ivar_ set another boundary for us. On top of studying in the library, we were to abstain from ‘fooling around’ of any kind on school-nights. I had wondered aloud if he really did think I was that sex crazed or needy that I needed to have _rules_ to keep disciplined. But he assured me that was not the case.

“They are as much for me as they are for you, Lisbet,” Ivar had said. It did naught to help that we were having the discussion while undressed and in bed with each other. I was having a hard enough time keeping my hands off of him. “I do not want us to lose focus on our studies. And I must admit I do not want to be distracted from the ways I mean to have you, either.”

I thought about those words every night. They still made me shiver. I was unsure where Ivar learned to speak the way he did, choose his words in such a manner, but it was consistently unlike anything I’d ever heard. And there were more and more of these hints of dominance in him… His want to dominate _me_. The prospect left me winded.

“You shouldn’t tease,” I chided lightly in the library, mindlessly running my fingers through the pages of my book. At least it was Thursday.

Ivar’s blue orbs turned dark as his jaw rolled back and forth. He had a way of communicating that he had something planned for you without actually having to say anything. But he was quick to drop the subject.

“Are you available for dinner tonight?” He asked.

Was this to be our first date? An actual date with Ivar? “Yes.”

“Good,” Ivar concurred. “We are to be entertaining a guest for the next few days.”

Not a date.

“I would like for you to meet her. She is…” He paused in search of a proper phrase, but seemed unable to find one. _Unusual_ for Ivar. “Anyway, Ubbe believes I should immerse you with our work.” I suddenly realized he was uneasy. It had me think that he didn’t agree with Ubbe, or at least wanted to delay what I expected would eventually have to happen. “He is right.”

He seemed relieved when I said – “Sure.”

 

 

I’d laid eyes on the mysterious guest with the golden Rolls-Royce parked out front for no more than five minutes and completely understood why Ivar was unable to describe her.

The woman’s name was Kwenthrith. A little bit of a thing – hardly taller than I, with a frame so slight I couldn’t properly wager her age. Her skin was as white as milk, and she had thick hair that was as long and dark as mine. Her bone structure was positively perfect; flawless and sharp like glass. And dark, beady eyes shone brightly, akin to Ivar’s in that they seemed to hide a slew of devious thoughts behind them.

I had to admit, she was so breathtaking – in an elegant red, velvet dress - that it was hard to tear my eyes from her. Even when she practically skipped toward Ivar after squealing his name upon our arrival, threw her arms around him and planted her crimson lips on his.

I’d been in the middle of hugging Ubbe when my jaw unhinged, watching her linger for far too long. And when she finally pulled away, the rouge of her mouth left a stain on his.

“Oh, _Ivar_ ,” she cooed shamelessly in her English accent. Her eyes raked up and down the length of him as she pleased, let her hands rub their way over his chest. “Handsome as ever. And in _uniform_ no less.” She giggled but the sound turned into a low growl. Ubbe patted my shoulder as I clenched harder onto his arms. “How _salacious_.”

“This was _your_ idea?” I asked, turning on Ubbe.

His chest rumbled with laughter. He ran a soothing hand over my back and guided me to the couch. “She is harmless,” he spoke in my ear, low enough so no one would hear. “A cougar perhaps – I confess Ivar is her favorite… But you have nothing to worry about.”

“And how many other utterly stunning and successful women favor him?” I couldn’t help but ask sardonically.

Ubbe offered one last lop-sided grin before disappearing to the kitchen, leaving me alone on the couch to nervously play with my hair. I jumped when the front door slammed open.

Hvitserk and Sigurd strode in, and both seemed delighted to find Kwenthrith. I was relieved to see them tear her attention from Ivar as they took turns greeting her – even more so when she kissed them on the mouths just the same. Meanwhile, he took the break to mosey to the couch opposite me and sit down.

“You Lothbrok’s are as appeasing as ever,” she was remarking, and much to my chagrin she plopped herself next to Ivar anyway, cozied up to him by draping an arm around his shoulders. I’d always found myself infuriated at his ability to remain so composed and unaffected. This was no different. Ivar wore a cool expression, giving nothing away as to what he was thinking, nor showing one inkling that he might push her away.

He cleared his throat, aiming a steady and direct gaze that would’ve made me shiver if I were on the receiving end. Kwenthrith visibly swooned. “And to what do we owe this pleasure?”

“What else but information, Ivar?” Hvitserk said, tone rhetorical. He had sat on the floor beside the coffee table, littered it with tobacco and rolling papers while he started fashioning his own cigarettes. Sigurd sat beside him, withdrew his guitar from its case to tune it absentmindedly. “I hear our little lady has some information for us?”

Ubbe returned with a pitcher of red wine and three glasses. He poured one for Kwenthrith, thankfully one for me, then helped himself to the last.

“Of course, I do,” Kwenthrith confirmed, looking pleased with herself. “I wouldn’t dare impose myself in such a manner if I was empty handed.”

It was hard for me to focus on conversation. My line of sight lingered on the way her fingers played with Ivar’s blazer. I was well aware he must’ve had certain airs to keep if this were in fact a business partner of some sort. But jealousy fueled me as this woman touched him, when he had denied me permission to do the same all week. It didn't help that there was such a familiarity shared between them that they must've known each other for some time now.

“I expect no less of you,” Ivar said affectionately. He was speaking as if there were no one else in the room but her, even wore a kind smile that seemed slightly unnatural on a face so often stern. I took down half the glass of wine in one gulp. Ubbe could sense my stress. He took a seat next to me and rested a comforting hand on my lap. “But first, we should be more hospitable,” Ivar went on. “I am sure you must be weary from the trip to us – we are as always appreciative. May we offer you dinner?”

Kwenthrith practically squealed at his words, and frankly, I couldn’t blame her. I had never received such sweet talking from him.

“Yes, I am weary,” she admitted, giving his shoulder a healthy squeeze. “And dinner would be most welcomed. I have taken the liberty of making more formal arrangements for us, but that is not until Saturday evening.”

“Excellent,” Ivar said with a nod. Their faces were a measly few inches apart as he faced her. “In the meantime, I will have something satisfying prepared for us.”

Down the hatch went the second half of my glass. Ubbe chastised me with a playful smack on the knee – a welcome distraction from the pair across from us - then rose to refill my glass.

“And who is _she_?” Kwenthrith asked; bluntly so, and I’d been struck silent for a long enough time that I had to do a double-take before realizing it _was_ actually me she referred to. I’d been so quiet in my corner that I lost all expectations to speak. I flustered as Ubbe filled my glass.

“This is Lisbet,” he said, cheerfully assisting. I smiled up at him, always grateful for his smooth temperament. “She is -”

“She is my girlfriend,” Ivar interrupted.

I gulped audibly as my heart skipped a beat… Never had I thought I’d find myself torn over such a declaration. My hand instinctively twitched, wanting to entwine with his. Show some sort of display of partnership. And yet, I felt sour. It was the first time I’d heard him call me his girlfriend – in front of his family no less – and he was sat with another woman’s paws on him. If I didn’t know him well enough, I would have felt insulted by the low blow.

Warily, I met his eyes. They were filled with an intensity that made me fidget.

“ _Girlfriend_?” Kwenthrith exclaimed, grabbing my attention back. “Ivar Lothbrok’s _girlfriend_ …” She said it slowly, as if playing with the title on her tongue. Though it motivated her none to detangle herself from my supposed boyfriend’s body. “How _interesting_.”

“Is it?” I dared to ask.

Kwenthrith beamed at me, only _then_ releasing Ivar to perch her elbows on her knees and see me better. “Indeed. If I recall correctly, you are the first.”

My eyebrows shot into my hairline; I was genuinely surprised. With Ivar’s reputation – and not just revolving a life of crime – I had expected there to be an entire assembly line of girls before me… I always avoided thinking on it too much.

“Yes, she’s a _lucky_ girl.” Sigurd chimed in. I’d _almost_ forgotten he and Hvitserk had joined us with the current display in my face. “Our dear brother has finally found someone as crazy as he is!”

I said nothing as Hvitserk chuckled. I learned the best way to deal with Sigurd’s persistent rudeness was by ignoring him. But Kwenthrith merely seemed to take it in stride.

“Quite the contrary, I’d say she must be fascinating to entice the likes of Ivar.”

As I attempted hiding my blush with another mouthful of wine, Kwenthrith busied herself, taking hold of Ivar’s chin to give his cheeks an affectionate squeeze. What a sight that was.

“Kwenthrith,” Ivar spoke, a warning in his voice like he were scolding a misbehaving puppy. “She is not for you to play with.”

“Such a pity,” she intoned. Looked back at me with a playful glint in her eye. “He spoils all the fun, doesn’t he?”

I laughed despite myself, perhaps at fault of the wine. But I couldn’t help but nod my head. “Yes, he does.”

 

It was my first official dinner in the Lothbrok Estate. Not once before had I sat at the massive dining table with the family for a full course meal. At Ivar’s beck and call, a private chef had arrived to prepare an array of dishes for us. Steaks and sausages, roasted potatoes and other stir-fried vegetables; freshly baked bread, and of course, more wine. The Estate didn't seem complete without an insurmountable amount of wine these days. I wasn’t much of a big eater, but the aroma was mouthwatering. I’d never before been treated to such ambience.

Ubbe sat at the head of the table, Ivar and Kwenthrith on either side of him. The other brothers were beyond Ivar’s left, and I preceded Kwenthrith and her guest on their right.

I’d yet to find out what Kwenthrith’s actual profession was, but we were eventually joined by her personal assistant, Beatrice. A younger woman than Kwenthrith and just as beautiful as she, clad in a flowy blouse tucked into a painfully tight pencil skirt. With brunette hair tied into a bun and smart brown eyes shielded by tortoiseshell framed glasses, I would’ve thought she was a professor of sorts if it wasn’t for who she worked for.

“As much as we enjoy your company, Kwenthrith – and we _do_ enjoy it,” Ubbe started, getting down to business. We were well into our entrees now, it wasn’t necessary to keep up exaggerated pleasantries. “I can’t help but be curious as to what information you’ve gathered that you think we’d find profitable.”

She groaned in feigned protest, swallowing her mouthful of food, then vigorously shook her head. “Of course – I should’ve mentioned it earlier.” She washed down the food with her drink before donning an expression as impressively professional as Ubbe’s. “I’ve gotten word there are traitors in your midst... Lagertha means to swindle those loyal to you in order to gain more for her cause.”

There was no warm up to the announcement, leaving an awkward silence to follow.

Ivar shared a look with Ubbe before he responded. “Beyond the Company, you mean.”

Kwenthrith nodded casually as if discussing the weather, aggressively stabbing her knife and fork into her filet. “She’s paying off men from the docks in attempt to attain spies. But she also wants to spread doubt that you boys are no longer capable of leading – something that people might come to believe if they see others switching sides... Naturally, I’d expect such dealings to be made with panhandlers, therefore nothing serious to worry about, but… I’m afraid the trio in question are Floki’s men.”

“That’s not possible,” Hvitserk opposed right away, face creasing into a scowl. He looked skeptical of her accusation. “Floki is nearly as much in charge as we are – it’s not possible he’d hire anyone without certainty of trust.”

“Which is why I bring the news to you at once.” She countered. “This mustn’t be overlooked if Lagertha's already managed to sink her nails in so deeply. I would imagine she’s attempting to start as high on the ladder as possible to make herself seem more influential.”

Keeping quiet on my end, I chanced a glance at Ivar. I couldn’t miss the dark look that crossed over his face as he learned he wasn’t the only busy one during the trip abroad. Having not even been properly introduced to Floki, I knew close to nothing about him to fathom what type of relationship he had with the Lothbrok’s. But by the foreboding reactions at the table, I could wager this hit felt too close to home.

Hvitserk still seemed doubtful. He perched both elbows on the table and clasped his hands together, meaning to be intimidating. “And where did we get this intel?”

Kwenthrith’s lips pursed as she swallowed down more wine, unbothered by his body language. “Classified, _Hvitsy_ , you know that.”

A blush actually rose on his face and I suddenly found myself enjoying this madwoman. Sigurd spoke up for him instead.

“Another one of your ‘trusty clients’?” He asked dryly. 

She seemed delighted at the question. “You’d be surprised at the burden of truths that fall from a powerful man’s tongue when under the mercy of a crop.”

I choked on my wine, drawing the eyes of everyone who sat at the table. Apparently, statements of that sort were entirely expected.

“Do you not know of my occupation, Lisbet?” Kwenthrith proceeded to ask me. Indeed, I was curious. Even opened my mouth to say as much, but Sigurd hadn’t finished with his quips.

“Perhaps you can take her under your wing, Kwenthrith,” he said suggestively with a chuckle. “I think we all know how much she enjoys lying on her back.”

“ _Sigurd_!” Everyone – Beatrice included – shouted in unison. All save for Kwenthrith and I. I’d suffered worse insults; I wouldn’t let the little prick under my skin so easily. He then had the gall to glare at me, as if it was I who’d made insulting remarks.

“I think you’ve misunderstood me, Sigurd,” Kwenthrith began to say, leisurely swirling the red liquid round her glass. “It’s not _I_ who spends time on my back.”

Sigurd dropped his fork onto his plate with a resounding clatter. Through narrowed eyes, I watched his lip curl into a sneer of disgust, clearly fighting with himself to decide on whether or not he wanted to continue this game… But Kwenthrith wasn’t finished.

“It must sting,” she continued. “To be so filled with jealousy when you think so highly of yourself and so lowly of your brother.” There was a dramatic pause while she let her words sink in. No one dared to speak in its vacancy. “In any case, I’d highly appreciate that you keep such foulness to yourself.”

Finally, he appeared ready to retort, but it was Ivar to interrupt this time.

“If you utter one more word, Sigurd, I will tear the tongue from your mouth.”

For the first time during the altercation, I looked at Ivar. He was seething, glaring holes through the dining table with wide eyes. A flush had spread across his cheeks, and even more noticeable was the sharp knife cradled in his fist. The silver blade glinted against the light as it shook in his trembling hand.

Ubbe looked furious, glaring back and forth between his younger brothers – quickly reached over and snatched the knife away from Ivar. “Mother was certainly right about being surrounded by oafish men.” Ivar loudly scoffed, but it seemed most of the chastising was directed at Sigurd. “You’ve disrespected our guests. Leave us.”

Much to my surprise, Sigurd actually relented and rose from his seat; tossed his napkin on the table, grabbed an open bottle of wine, and left the room. Most of the tension left with him.

“The misogyny is palpable in that one,” Kwenthrith remarked cheerfully. “Reminds me of my uncle.”

“Where were we, Kwenthrith?” Ubbe asked, brows still furrowed above his eyes. He roughly shoved his plate away and downed his glass of wine in one mouthful.

But Ivar was less polite. His anger still radiated from him in waves that I could feel from across the table. “I suppose you want something in exchange for names?”

Kwenthrith pouted at his abrasiveness. “Now, Ivar, you shouldn’t think me so shallow,” she cooed. “Your family has always been good to me. I want nothing more than the continuation of our arrangement.”

Once again, Ivar intercepted Ubbe’s response. “ _Names_ , then, Kwenthrith. I am growing impatient.”

“Jensen, Olsen, and Lund,” she ticked off without further qualms. It seemed even she fell cautious under Ivar’s authority.

Ivar withdrew his phone in the next second, bowed his head to tap wildly at the screen. “I want this taken care of tonight,” he said once he’d finished. “Hvitserk -”

“Don’t even think on it, Brother.” Hvitserk snorted. “We covered two rent collections while you were away – it is your turn.”

I couldn’t miss the quick look Ivar passed in my direction.

“You owe us.”

If possible, Ivar appeared even angrier. He grabbed his crutches from the floor in preparation to storm off.

“Bring Lisbet.” Ubbe said suddenly.

Ivar and I both gawked at him. The few glasses of wine I’d drank were helpful in processing tonight’s chain of events. But I couldn’t be sure that I was ready to embark on whatever Ivar had planned for these betrayers. I may not have been well versed in the workings of the Mob – especially when a Boss was robbed– but I was more than certain that nothing good would come to the three men in question.

“ _Ivar_ ,” Ubbe pressed. “If you want her to be a part of the Family, she must see what we do. You know that as well as I.”

Ivar nodded, albeit begrudgingly. He gave one final forcefully charming smile in Kwenthrith’s direction as he came to a stand. “Forgive me, this ought to have been more civil,” he said. “But we are thankful for your information. It is invaluable.”

Kwenthrith seemed hardly bothered. I watched her hand settle on Beatrice’s thigh. Couldn’t help but notice Ubbe’s eyes do the same from the head of the table. “No apologies necessary, Ivar. Do as you must.”

 

I kept quiet in his bedroom. I suppose there wasn’t much to be said, but Ivar was clearly so heated that I didn’t want to set him off with one misplaced word. I paced back and forth in front of the bay window, unable to keep still. A fresh glass of wine was clenched in my fist; a welcome coping mechanism for the time being.

“I hope that was not too uncomfortable,” he said in lieu of apology.  

“Being called a whore by your brother?” I dryly droned. Tomorrow, I was bound to regret the bluntness of my words. But in the moment, the alcohol spoke up for me. A reminder of why I was reluctant to be drunk around Ivar. I took one last sip and set the glass down in haste. “Or having to watch you entertain another woman’s advances?”

His growl was impossible to miss. I bit my lip, thinking I should be keeping my problems to myself. His own were much more pressing just then.

I offered him an apologetic smile and he beckoned me to sit beside him at the foot of the bed. He’d changed into all black, replacing the school uniform with a pricier blouse and pair of trousers. The neat knot of hair atop his head had even been recombed.

Once I sat, he showed no reluctance in brushing the shield of hair away from my face. Even tugged at my upturned chin to force me to look at him. All night, he’d been consistently impossible to read. _Now_ included. The expression he wore could only be assumed as troubled.

“I hope I do not have to assure you that nothing would ever happen between -”

“- No.” I said quickly. I couldn’t bear to hear him finish that sentence.

“You are upset,” he said softly.

“Not really…” I replied, shaking my head in his grasp. Whether Ivar was intending it or not, his closeness was dizzying. I looked into his soft blue eyes, already feeling soothed by the gaze beneath his soft eyelashes and by the simple touch of his hand. The effect should’ve been worrying, but between that and the wine, I couldn’t find it in me to care.

“You do not have to come with me,” Ivar reassured. And yet I believed otherwise. I needed to see this side of Ivar. I needed all of him – including the darkness, the family, the crime.

“Do you not want me to come?” I asked seriously.

Ivar sniffed, dropped his hand from my chin to rest over my thigh instead. I tried not to think about the weight of it.

“Ubbe is right,” he declared for the second time that day, though it wasn’t exactly an answer to the question. He fell quiet for a moment long enough to have me think the conversation was over, but then spoke up again. “You will not like what you see.”

His eyes were unblinking, staring hard into mine as he gauged my reaction.

“Are you going to hurt those men?” I whispered.

“Yes.”

A tremble coursed its way through my body, stifled somewhat as Ivar ran his fingertips down the side of my face.

“Does that bother you?” He asked, all the while moving his hand to slide around the back of my neck. I sucked in a breath, eyes closing when he brought us close enough together so our foreheads could touch. I was certain he knew what he was doing, but it was calming all the same and I appreciated the gesture.

“It should,” I admitted truthfully. Warm breath fanned my face; I just wanted to melt into him. I knew the rules, and yet I couldn’t keep from at least reaching out, running my hands up Ivar’s chest and over his broad shoulders. “But it doesn’t…”

I leaned even closer until my lips just barely brushed over his.

“ _Lisbet_ ,” he warned, though he didn’t pull away.

“Ivar,” I whispered back, being stubborn. My lips puckered just the slightest to press a gentle kiss around his upper lip.

“I have to work,” he scolded, even as his large hand tightened around my thigh.

“I know,” I breathed. But _fuck_ , just for a second I would’ve loved to feel him. Just one kiss to hold me over. Without saying anything more, I increased the pressure of my lips, kissing him more firmly this time. I could tell he was restraining himself; it suddenly felt like I was hugging and kissing a brick wall.

It was short-lived, anyway. There was a knock on the door, and hardly a second passed for Ubbe to poke his head in. He didn’t look at all apologetic for his obvious intrusion.

“Floki’s ready for you,” he informed abruptly, then left the door open as he retreated.

Ivar took hold of my wrists and detached me from him. I tried not to pout when he forced us apart, but won little satisfaction as he looked down at me with saddened eyes.

“Last chance to back out,” he offered. The corner of his lip twitched. “I can always take you back to campus.”

I shook my head, almost feeling affronted. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll stay with you.”

 

 

Cris drove us to the coast where Floki’s docks were located. At night, the industrial district appeared more ominous. Orange streetlights reflected puddled asphalt, guiding our way along the empty stretch of road. It was late enough that there was not a soul in sight. And the closer we approached port, the more the enormous liners came into view. I’d never seen ships such as these docked without crowds of people ready to board for a holiday cruise. All windows were as black as the sky above.

Eventually, we stopped in front of a warehouse. The only lit up space I could see within eyesight. We sat in silence, the car idle for a few minutes before a tall figure walked out of the metal door and approached. It wasn’t until they walked around to the front passenger side and climbed into the car did I recognize Floki. His bald head loomed above the headrest of the chair, and he was about as darkly dressed as the rest of us.

He pivoted to poke his head between the front seats – giggled when he saw me.

“ _Ooh_ , hello, Lisbet,” he greeted pleasantly. Odd, given the circumstances. “I was not expecting to see your face tonight.”

“Are they inside?” Ivar asked, blowing past the greeting. His voice sounded different to me. A total adjustment in timbre; deeper, smoother, quieter.

He flicked cigarette ash through the parted window before taking another drag. I would’ve liked to say I couldn’t notice the change in his demeanor since leaving the Estate. But the shift in persona was impressively daunting. More so than the way I’d seen him behave at the meeting he brought me to.

He wore earbuds throughout the duration of the drive over, playing music loudly enough for me to hear beside him. It was like he had to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. If the transition required some sort of mantra for _himself_ , I trembled to imagine what I might have to endure. I desperately wanted to hold his hand – _any_ semblance of comfort. But I was certain Ivar would act as if I wasn’t here tonight.

Floki’s face fell solemn as he looked at him. “I still wish you would let me handle this, Ivar.”

“It is not your responsibility, Floki.”

“Of course, it is,” he disagreed. “They are _my_ men.” He turned in his seat to face frontward, heaving a sigh. “I can only imagine how Ragnar would react – to see me lead his sons astray.”

Ivar sucked on his teeth. “You’ve _not_. Rats reveal themselves sooner or later. This won’t be the last time Lagertha tries to weasel in, either.” He tossed his cigarette out of the window before rolling it up. “Have they been questioned?”

“Yes. Came clean more easily than I expected, I admit. _Two_ of them, anyway.”

“And the third?”

“Olsen.” Floki said. “Took a wealthy beating, but he was determined enough to stay quiet that I figured we’d leave him to you.”

Ivar snorted. “How thoughtful of you...”

Floki nudged Cris with his elbow. “Pull around to the side there,” he gestured with a finger. “I took the liberty of increasing eyes around here, but the boys are touchy now with this insubordination. Don’t want them to become trigger happy now, do we?”

I gulped as Cris did as directed. Ivar had assured my safety; the traitors at hand were greatly outnumbered, and clearly Floki had been thorough in their disarmament… Though that wouldn’t keep me from becoming a shadow once I followed their lead.

We all climbed out of the car and entered the warehouse that Floki had exited. It was entirely vacant save for unorganized piles of wooden crates. Twitchy fluorescent lights hung from the high ceiling. He led us to the back, to the shoddy looking lift; one of those older models that were enclosed with grating instead of thick, steel walls and doors.

Down we went, into the basement. I tried not to focus on my quick-beating heart, or the way beads of sweat formed on the palms of my hands. What short-lived buzz dinner’s wine had provided me was quickly wearing off the deeper we sunk. I felt so little in the small chamber, surrounded by the entourage of large and intimidating men. Ivar towered over me on his own; Floki and Cris were both significantly taller than him.

As we landed, I looked at Ivar one last time – the last time before everything would change. There was no way to be certain of exactly what would happen here, but as I stared at his form, propped up on his crutches, face a total mask of composure, I knew I’d never look at him the same way again. Would I fear him? Well – a part of me did already. I could only hope that my feelings for him would remain intact once I witnessed this side of him, whatever his actions may be. Regardless of this lifestyle… I was determined not to lose him.

The gates slid opened, and I trailed behind them as we moved through the basement – a much smaller area compared to the rest of the warehouse above. But more fluorescence, more vacancy. Perhaps even more dirt. It _reeked_ of dirt.

But the sound of whimpers overcrowded my senses in a greater wave than the smell did. As we crossed the floor, we came upon a lone table in the corner. The three men who stood accused of betrayal each had one hand cuffed to the surface of it. They were all covered in bruises, but one was more purple-faced than the others. That must’ve been Olsen. Behind them stood another hulking man, presumably belonging to Floki, looking like he was keeping watch. A large rifle was propped over his shoulder.

Ivar took a seat at the table, occupying the only chair in front of them. He handed his crutches off to Cris, who propped them on the wall beside him so his hands could remain free.

“I-Ivar, I swear this is just a huge misunderstanding,” one of them pleaded at once; pale and freckle-faced he was, with long hair pulled into a ponytail. “If you’d just let us -”

“Speak when I have asked a question, Lund,” Ivar drawled, lighting up another cigarette. The smoke plumed above his head in soft clouds. I kept my distance behind him, instead stayed close to Cris’s side, whose presence became suddenly appreciated in this unfamiliar place.

Lund was the smallest man in the room. He already had a bloody nose. The clothes he wore were tattered, though from the looks of them, it probably had less to do with having been roughed up a bit. Jensen was in the middle and looked far from hopeful. If anything, he seemed about ready to vomit. He was so ashen, he looked ill. And couldn’t bear to even look at Ivar. Olsen sat on the end. The stockiest of them all, he had a crew cut that only made him seem larger, and was displaying such a formidable scowl that I was hardly surprised that he was the only one in the trio who’d been keeping a tight lip.

“Who approached you?” Ivar asked, with no segue or semblance of pillow talk.

Lund was quick to answer. “The son – Bjorn. Hardly two weeks ago.”

“And you?” He continued, waving his hand at the other two men.

“Bjorn approached me as well,” Jensen admitted.                                                       

“And what did he offer?”

“Two and a half million kroner,” Lund said at once.

The laughter that came from Ivar rose goosebumps on my skin. It was a true teller of the anger he felt inside. “That’s all?” He sneered, thumb flicking at his cigarette. “They must have promised you something else. My family has taken much better care of you over the years.” There was a pause where Ivar expected an answer, and I near jumped from my shoes when his palm smacked loudly on the table when he didn’t get it. “ _What else did he promise_?”

This time around, Jensen seemed as terrified as Lund. It amazed me to wonder how a man of Floki’s stature – even now as he rounded the table to stand behind them - could leer over them in such a way, have previously pummeled them through questioning, and yet somehow it was _Ivar_ who was more threatening.

“Just a promotion, sir,” Jensen admitted. “We’ve been working the docks for _years_ – pay not increasing -”

“Your pay is through protection,” Ivar said through grit teeth. “How fucking stupid could any of you be, thinking we will pay you off the books for the banks to see… Your _pay_ is what has kept you scot-free.” He shook his head in disapproval, puffing on his cigarette. “I am half-tempted to let you go to their side, watch you crumble and succumb to whatever _green grass_ you think them capable of keeping...” He clucked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “And after all we have given you. After all my uncle has given you,” he added, gesturing to Floki with an upturned palm.

“Did you talk?” Ivar continued, upon receiving naught but sounds somewhere between strangled sobs and helpless groans.

“Sure, there was some negotiating -” Jensen’s sentence was brought to a halt as Floki hit him over the back of his head with the butt of his handgun.

Ivar stabbed out his cigarette before perching on his elbows. “I am not sure which is worse, which _irritates_ me more – your liability… Or your _silence_ ,” he hissed, sending a pointed look to Olsen. “Your punishments are fated. It is only in your best interest to be honest with me.”

Mass confusion erupted as all three men began to talk at once – even Olsen - each with their own version of confessions, seemingly desperate now to keep from whatever Ivar had in store for them. It was as if they knew already what he was going to do.

“I told them _nothing_ -”

“It’s only been a few days -”

“You were _gone_ longer that -”

“She wants to get to Harald -”

Ivar raised his hand at that, halting all conversation. “Come again?”

Olsen sulked, shaking his head. “Lagertha intends to form allies with Harald between here and Oslo. If he shares the wealth with her, that gives her almost enough power to drown you out.”

“You know this how?” Ivar asked.

“Bjorn _told_ me! Sir - that’s why I was convinced. He made it sound like Harald already chose her over you, I didn’t -” The chain of his cuff clinked loudly as he struggled to turn to Floki. “I will do what I can to fix this. Perhaps I can pretend I’m still on her side? I can be your informant?”

“The damage is done!” Ivar shouted, calling his attention back. “You have broken my trust. You have brought Floki shame. You must think me a _fool_ to possibly suggest I use you as a spy.”

“No, Ivar - Sir, I wouldn’t dare -”

It was implausible how Ivar could've moved so fast. Like a flash of lightning, he withdrew a blade from his coat – nearly the size of a cleaver – swung in a large arc, and brought it down across Olsen’s hand. It cut through flesh and bone, unevenly between the knuckles of his fingers, and blood shot inches high from the surface of the table as he released a most horrific scream.

The hostages’ fright echoed loudly in the basement. I staggered backward, clapping my hand over my mouth to keep from making any noise at the sight of the small, severed digits littering the table. The two other men still cuffed and anchored writhed at their restraints, pulled and yanked, twisted their wrists in desperation to save themselves.

With another swing – another bright reflection of silver – Ivar shouted as he brought the blade down with a resounding _clang_. Another strip of crimson shot out from Lund’s fingers this time; his voice grew even louder at the pain of it. Ivar hadn’t nicked either of their thumbs, so they were still held down, unable to pull free from the links to the table as tears poured from their eyes, screams from their throats. Jensen even tried kicking at the table in effort to free himself.

Ivar quickly retaliated, hardly budged from his seat as he swung the knife widely to his right. Another sickening round of crunches filled the air as Jensen, too, lost his fingers.

Cris stepped forward, withdrawing a handkerchief from his jacket, which he then handed to Ivar. He’d been panting over his chair, positively brimming with adrenaline.

Once he’d collected himself, he took the cloth and cleaned the blood from his knife… and what little that had spattered over his own hand. After he’d pocketed the blade, Cris took the handkerchief back and moved back to his position, closer to me. I hadn’t moved an inch, too frozen in shock, but at least grateful that my stomach could handle the sight of such a thing.

“I will _allow_ you to leave town,” Ivar finally announced. He adjusted his coat before turning to face them again. And as he continued, Floki began to unlock their cuffs. Like dominos, they collapsed in their chairs, clutching their maimed limbs. “I should kill you... I would like to.” Ivar paused, clearly rethinking his decision to spare them. “But I will have to take solace in Lagertha’s embarrassment instead!” He exclaimed, sounding sickeningly cheerful.

Ivar waved a hand over his shoulder and again, Cris moved quickly. He gathered Ivar’s crutches and brought them to him. Held them steady as Ivar rose to his feet.

“I assume I will not have to explain what will happen if I see any of your faces again?”

A chill ran down my spine as they all answered in pained unison – “No, Sir.”

I’d almost forgotten I had the ability to move until Ivar turned around, intent on our departure. I caught a glimpse of his face; it was still drawn in umbrage, with looming shadows beneath his eyes. I almost tripped over myself in effort to follow him and Cris toward the elevator, only to be overtaken by Floki.

He set his hand on Ivar’s shoulder before he could board the lift.

“Ivar, I am afraid I won’t be letting Olsen leave town as you say.”

Ivar’s brows furrowed at first, but then relaxed as he took to Floki’s meaning. He gave a single nod of approval, patting the hand on his shoulder. “As you were, then.”

 

The car ride back was mostly in silence, but the farther we got from the warehouse, the more the tension ebbed. Over and over, the scene played through my mind until I had to close my eyes to will it away. I had to pull it together... There was no rational way for my thoughts to process – not now. I took a deep breath and turned to look at Ivar.

He was gazing through the window, watching the world breeze by, but could evidently feel my stare and slowly looked back at me. It was the first time he dared to since leaving the Estate. His face visibly softened; it was like watching him become dispossessed. The Ivar I knew was coming back to me.

“Does he mean to kill him?” I blurted – too curious not to ask.

“I daresay he does,” he replied, sounding tired. “He feels guilty. By doing so, he reaffirms his loyalty to us… But to others -”

“- It keeps them from straying,” I finished for him.

Ivar appeared pleased by my understanding, and I couldn’t keep from reaching over to take hold of his hand. I didn’t wait for any sign of protest – simply entwined our fingers, and instantly felt loads better just from the simple touch. Exponentially so when he tugged my hand into his lap and held it tightly with both of his. A small act of kindness, but one I knew would get me through the rest of the night.

And to think – we still had fucking _classes_ tomorrow…


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all so much for all your kind, encouraging, and supportive words!! They help keep this madness flowing :) Hope you enjoy Xx.

 

Ivar was in a mood the next day. I could spot his sourness before I even crossed the room to sit with him.

It didn’t help that I was late for the usual meetup of our study session in the library. I’d been stuck in the lab, yes, but I also made no effort in rushing to be on time, either.

I had to admit, I felt undoubtable reluctance toward meeting Ivar today… After tossing and turning alone in bed all night, mind blockaded with violent images, I was filled to the brim with conflict.

We hadn’t spoken since Cris dropped me off at my dorm. At the time, I was so begrudged to leave Ivar. He’d clutched onto my hand the whole way home… I couldn’t help but feel as if we both needed each other then. Needed an emotional crutch just for one night.

Instead, we went our separate ways as Ivar decided was necessary for us. And now, it was exceptionally difficult to decide if what I wanted of him was closeness or – that was a lie. I knew I wanted any distance between us to be nonexistent. But I _especially_ knew that Ivar’s effect on me made it hard to sort out my thoughts with any sense of logic. How long had it been since that was my primary resource – my own logic?

I could feel myself already rationalizing what he’d done the night before. And it was frightening to see myself come to that revelation. What finally brought me sleep was settling on the fact that Ivar had done what was required of his position. That those men had, in fact, tried to rob him, and spy on him and his family. And perhaps facts themselves had been reliable to me not so long ago. But what would it mean for me if – this early on, even – I could apply reason to such actions?

“You are late.”

I paused in the middle of logging on to my laptop to find Ivar glaring at me from his seat around the corner of the table. He was positively _brooding_ ; mostly visible in the set of his strong brow, and then some in the slump of his shoulders. It was evident he, too, hadn’t slept well last night… However, he was at least wearing his hair down for once, making him a welcome sight nonetheless.

“Chemical spill response drills in the lab,” I explained, leaving out the multitude of complications that persistently buzzed around inside me. “It’s about as exciting as it sounds…”

I trailed in confusion as, abruptly, he gathered his crutches and rose from his seat.

“…Where are you going?” I asked, completely startled. In _all_ the time we’d studied together, neither of us had _ever_ gotten up from our seats for _any_ type of interruption.

Ivar barely gave my baffled face a second glance as he trudged away from the table, across the library, and into its small café. My jaw was unhinged the entire time my eyes followed him. _What the fuck?_ Now I was worried. Worried that Ivar was more upset than I originally thought. Could he have possibly been this angry with me for being late?

There was a paper I had full intention of banging out in an hour tops so I could finally be freed for the weekend. But in the ten minutes Ivar disappeared, I could barely focus. Could hardly concentrate enough just to get my damn documents opened.

Finally, he returned, and with a Freshman in tow. A feeble looking girl who carried what turned out to be a large mug of coffee and a chocolate croissant. From the look on her face, I could only imagine what kind of hard time he’d given her in the process.

“What are you doing?” I demanded once he was settled back in his seat.

“What does it look like?” Ivar harshly retorted. He took a sip of his coffee, wincing slightly at its heat, then pulled his laptop back in his face.

It didn’t make me feel any better. “Sorry – I just -”

“Sorry?” Ivar interrupted before pursing his lips at me, squinting his eyes as if in accusation. “What for?”

I scowled as he turned away. If he was mad at me, he could’ve simply said so. I was tired, too. And still unnerved from last night’s events. There was not much patience in me to deal with him if his plan was to shut me out with bickering. I’d apparently foolishly believed we were past that.

So, instead of responding, I tuned him out. Spent the next hour trying not to feel progressively insulted by his attitude. Ivar stayed quiet enough after that, except for huffing in impatience periodically. He was proving to be a master of passive aggression.

And once my paper was complete with just under ten pages, I leaned back in my chair and cracked my knuckles. The first week of term was fucking over.

I glanced at Ivar and watched him referencing his computer while working a pencil over graphing paper. His hair fell into his face as he concentrated. And for the quick moment, I pondered on what things would be like between us if he was normal, if he didn’t come from a family of gangsters, or wasn’t capable of doing terrible things. It was mindboggling to see this pretty, young man now, when not even twenty-four hours ago, he’d chopped apart three people’s hands with a knife...

But I couldn’t doubt him like that. Couldn’t doubt _us_. If I did, things would be over before they even began. Even _if_ Ivar was normal, he wouldn’t be the person I longed for so badly.

“What is it, Lisbet?” He droned, sounding annoyed. I ignored that, too.

“Can I drive us back to yours?” I pondered tentatively. “I’d just have to get some things from my dorm.”

The way the tension left Ivar’s body was as if an enormous wave had coursed through it. It was dumbfounding; I couldn’t recall a time I’d seen him appear so downright relieved by something. When he looked up at me, I was even more startled. His brows knit together and his icy eyes were pleading, seeming like a lost puppy. Whatever was troubling him, it was near impossible to keep up with his mood swings.

“You still want to come home with me?” Ivar eventually asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Perhaps my earlier worry was a bit preemptive.

“Of course,” I insisted, feeling my own face contort in concern. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Ivar heaved a sigh and dropped his pencil. Ran a stressed hand through his loose hair.

“I was sure – I thought after -” He stopped, clenched a fist, growling at himself in frustration. “After what you saw, I was certain you would not want -”

“Ivar, no.”

“And then you were late today so I assumed -”

“Ivar, _no_ ,” I repeated, louder this time. For once, I didn’t give a shit about the people who turned to look in response to my raised voice. I scooted to the edge of my chair so I could reach over and clasp my hand around Ivar’s forearm, comforted to find he didn’t withdraw. I wanted to do more just then – to climb on his lap and just hold him. It was only the snooping eyes of those around us that kept me from doing so.

 Whatever reluctance I’d felt before was quickly drained; it’d never crossed my mind to think Ivar would believe I’d just – _abandon_ him after one night. It was no help that he constantly exuded such a confidence that it was all too easy to forget he could ever feel insecure.

At once, I began to feel angry with myself instead of frustration at him. I had no perspective when it came to Ivar. I was continually believing my own experience to be the worst – when it was Ivar whose circumstances were worlds more extreme. And _of_ _course_ , he had to shut me out, always put up such a wall that I couldn’t fathom he’d think lowly of himself. That he’d be so afraid of his own vulnerability that he’d rather lash out at me to hide it.

“Of course, I want to come home with you,” I said again, shaking my head at him for daring to think otherwise. 

“I’ve not scared you away,” he said, almost as if in disbelief. It seemed I was correct in thinking that we should’ve spent the night together. I was unaware of how often he did _that_ sort of thing, but it would’ve probably been for the best if we recovered in each other's company.

I leaned as close to him as I could without rising from my seat. Ivar’s expression was still hard to comprehend as he drank in my own, searching for the smallest signal that I could’ve been lying to him. And I couldn’t help but feel the slightest twinge of happiness, feeling that perhaps he did need me…

“You haven’t…” I murmured, our faces just inches apart. I ran my hand back and forth across his forearm, hoping to be reassuring. Hoping to convey what I truly felt. He audibly swallowed in turn, and I nearly pouted at him. “Finish up,” I said, ignoring the urge to brag that I’d completed my work before him for once. “And let me take you home.”

 

 

“What do you think you are doing?”

The edge in Ivar’s voice made me jump in his chair, still halfway through tugging my blazer down my arms. I froze behind Ivar’s desk, carefully met his eye, thinking that he might’ve been angry again.

He appeared exasperated more than anything; he stood just inside the door to his bedroom and looked at me almost as if he were disappointed. Without saying another word, he shut the door and locked it. The very sound of the deadbolt clicking into place made my heart skip a beat.

Staying quiet, he carried himself across the room before taking a seat at the foot of the bed. The crutches were neatly set aside on the floor, then he started loosening the cuffs to his jacket.

“Come here,” he said, keeping his eyes on the sleeves. I left my blazer behind and abided, approached him on weak knees. Ivar didn’t look up at me until I stood directly in front of him, with my feet just barely reaching his. His eyes were dark. He was entirely straight-faced and held eye contact while he pulled off his jacket, leaving him in his blouse that was the perfect amount of snug.

I gulped. Winced when I heard how loud it was.

“You have been a very good girl for me this week, Lisbet.” Ivar said softly. Every trace of his previous upset had all but vanished – yet another one of his seamless transitions that were too swift to keep track of... Slowly, he reached with his right hand to pet softly at the outside of my thigh. It took each ounce of resolve I had not to whimper at the sudden contact - a whole week of no touching and just this simple gesture left me _painfully_ thirsty. “A part of me was sure you would require a spanking by now.”

My breath hitched in my throat. A flush spread through my face and it was obvious Ivar had noticed. He was clearly trying to resist the smug smirk that tempted his lips.

“Although – you _were_ late today,” he continued. His grip twitched around my thigh, a warm contrast to the goosebumps that rose on my flesh. “A full thirty minutes”

Ivar was tip-toeing around what he was suggesting – giving me the opportunity to tell him to stop if I wanted him to. But I’d do no such thing. _Fuck_ , he could’ve drawn me across his lap if he wanted to, my attraction for him had built up to such a breaking point.

I pointed my chin up in challenge. No sooner had I made sure to plant my feet than Ivar removed his hand from my thigh to reach around and lift my skirt - and with the other, he sharply slapped my ass. 

My gasp was shrill as I clutched his large shoulders, and I was thankful for being encircled by both of his arms to keep me in place. They were tight around me, but he still held me at enough of a distance that he could keep his eyes locked on my face. His own remained utterly composed; not even a blink.

“Did you like that, Lisbet?” Ivar asked, soothing my stinging skin with the palm of his hand. The tips of his fingers caught the hem of my panties with every other stroke. It sent a sensation through me much akin to a blooming, heated puddle forming in the pit of my stomach.

I swallowed heavily as I nodded, heart now racing, and I could’ve sworn I heard my blood rushing in my ears.

“Good.” He nodded and unraveled me from his arms, settling both hands on my hips. “That is how I would like to punish you from now own.”

“Do you intend to punish me often, Ivar?” I asked meekly. I was already borderline shaking, and sought definition for what it was he truly desired.

“Among other things,” Ivar countered, peering up at me through thick lashes. Ivar was so goddamn _handsome_ ; I had to regulate my breathing when he ran his tongue between his perfectly, plump lips. His soft hair was a tease that made my fingers itch to feel it, but I couldn’t let go of his shoulders or I was certain I would fall. “But I would very much like to reward you… To pleasure you.”

“ _Ivar_ ,” I whined loudly, struggling not to tip over.

His resounding chuckle was almost as frustrating as the steady growing throb between my legs. The only thing helping was his smile, large enough to reach his eyes, and brightly filled with sharp teeth. There was something so genuine about it that I thought it must be treasured, but the twinkle in his eye was less than innocent.

“Tell me, Lisbet,” he went on once he sobered up. He released my hips, only to slide his hands down and under my skirt to wrap his fingers around the waistband of my panties. Ever so slowly, he began to drag the lacy fabric down my thighs. “Do you enjoy taking direction?”

If it was his intent to make me lose focus by his actions, it was working. I tried not to stutter as I answered him. “How so?”

“I would like you to be submissive to me,” Ivar replied, voice gravelly. The panties were at my knees now; once he reached midcalf, he dropped them to the floor. “Within reason, of course. You can say – ‘no, Ivar,’ and I will stop. Or ‘yes, Ivar,’ and I will continue. Understood?”

The nature of his words was so arousing, I almost felt sick. As always, Ivar spoke with such brevity that I became riddled with anxious nerves. He was so obviously experienced, knew exactly what he wanted. How he wanted _me_. It was intimidating, and yet I knew he’d have little patience for my insecurities.

“ _Yes_ , Ivar.”

Another smile; one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Then let me reward you.”

With hands pulling at my waist, Ivar led me onto his lap. I perched a knee on either side of him and instantly, the growing tent in the crotch of his pants dug into me. I was a whimpering mess again, clutched around his neck to draw his mouth toward mine, desperate for a kiss. My eyes careened backward as our lips hungrily melded together; tongues darted out right after, slid alongside one another until we found it hard to breathe.

Ivar’s eyes were darkly filled with lust, staring at my mouth as we parted. Like a beast, he bared his teeth and sunk them just beneath my jaw. The moan was strangled in my throat as his tongue laved at the bite mark, warm breath fanning on my dampened skin.

Again, I was finding it hard to match his haste. He fastened his hand around my knee, stretched out my thigh even further so he could slip it beneath my skirt. My pelvis violently jerked into him when I felt his fingers seek my entrance.

“So wet,” he remarked huskily, running his fingers languidly through my lower lips. Back and forth with a nice, steady rhythm so my hips soon joined in his motion. “I am going to make you come with my hand,” he promised, kissing his way up my cheek. “And then I want you to get on your knees and suck my cock.”

“Yes, Ivar,” I barely breathed – then wailed as two thick fingers plunged into my cunt. I tangled my hands into his hair as a source of anchorage. Clenched my eyes shut and grit my teeth together, pressed my face into the nook of his neck while he started pumping in and out of me. He’d worked me up so much merely by speaking. It wouldn’t take long to turn me into putty in his arms… Such strong arms. I groped them in small fists, reveling in his muscle. I could feel one of them flexing through his shirt by his assault between my legs.

There was no restraint as I took a handful of his hair and tugged his head back, wanting to see his face. Butterflies filled my stomach at the look of him; cheeks as red as mine, blue eyes appearing more grey under heavy lids. His lips were parted, releasing small pants that were nearly as quick paced as my own.

With a twist of his wrist, his thumb dragged through my soaked lips, settled over my clit to run in slow but heavy circles around the swelled nub. I practically clawed at him in response, whining in his face. He was _too_ good with his hands.

“Take your blouse off for me, Lis’,” he huffed – sped up the pace of his fingers when I didn’t move right away.

Limbs shaking, I managed to undo every button. Ivar’s eyes drank me in through the entire process, following my movements. He choked down a groan once I pulled the fabric apart, baring my body to him. I’d worn a nicer bra today and was thankful for it - black lace that Ivar evidently approved of.

He leaned forward at once and ran his mouth sloppily over my breasts, groaning when he pressed his face into the swell of my cleavage. He pulled his fingers from me in the next instant, used them to smother and rub against my clit instead. The suddenness had me crying out; I rose on my knees, grabbing onto his neck with both hands again. Everything below my waist trembled at his motions; my hips gyrated of their own accord.

I couldn’t wrap my head around it – the pressure too blinding in my body to think straight. Still couldn’t grasp that it was Ivar Lothbrok doing this to me. Wanting me. Fucking me with his fingers. Images of the night before, his same hand wrapped around a blade, suddenly rushed through my head and shockingly, it only increased the hot pool in the pit of my groin. I didn’t even have the wherewithal to think on it for long – I was already coming over him. Letting out a helpless shriek, I clutched onto him fiendishly as I bucked at his torso through my orgasm.

“ _Good girl, Lisbet_ …” Ivar was praising, and I was near deaf to it. He moved his hands to stroke over my thighs, pressed light kisses across my chest as I gasped to catch my breath. “These fucking _thighs_ …” he followed with. So lowly, it was as if the remark was meant for himself.

My slight hysteria resulted in a snorted giggle.

“Now - what did I tell you?” He asked next, nipping at my chin. I had to admit, I blanked for a moment – only realized what he meant once he spanked me again. “On your knees.”

Though it took much strength, I didn’t disobey again. I responded straight away to his authoritative tone. Detangled myself from him so I could gently spread his legs and situate myself between them. With doe eyes, I looked up at him. The expression on his face was more than encouraging; he appeared almost menacing, glaring down at me as he waited. His chest heaved through his tight blouse as one hand darted out to rake through my hair, taking hold at the scalp.

Without further ado, I unbuckled his belt, mouth already watering just from the sound of clicking metal. With each brush of my hand, I could feel his erection simply bursting to break free. So much so that I was careful with the zipper of his pants. His hips thrusted toward me off the bed, and I pulled down the trousers and briefs with one tug.

I’d been correct; his perfect, solid cock sprang forward at its release. I whimpered at the sight of it, hardly even needed Ivar’s urging clench against my scalp to tighten before pressing my lips to his girth.

Taking hold of the base in my fist, I dragged my mouth up the length of his shaft and flicked at the tip with my tongue. His cock turned redder by the second; a quiet whimper escaped Ivar’s lips and I sealed my own around his head, suckled until I could hear him let out a heavy sigh, feel him lean back a little further.

“I am in no mood for teasing, Lisbet,” he croaked.

I grinned despite myself. His voice sounded too ragged, giving away his neediness. But I spared him all the same, swallowed him down until I had to pause to slacken my jaw. Ivar was so fucking thick and so tall, I had to ease my way around him.

He sat up straight when I took him deeper and I could feel the restraint in his hand, struggling to keep from fucking into my throat. I went at a slow and steady pace, sucking in my cheeks, lathering him with my tongue so I could move slickly around his cock.

Ivar let out a noise similar to a howl, gripping onto my hair with both hands now. “ _Fuck_ , Lis’… Your mouth -” his voice cut off with a gasp. I decided I loved hearing him like this, probably took sadistic pleasure at hearing him crumble to a mess for once. And he tasted so good between my lips… I moaned around him, let go of his base so I could force him deeper into my mouth. Cupped my hand over his balls to knead him.

There was no stopping him then – he thrusted urgently, hitting my tonsils so forcefully that I gagged. The cries and curses that poured from his mouth were _delightful_ ; I ate up every ounce of it. But I had to eventually take hold of his wrists to ease his strength, knowing tears would fall from my eyes if he didn’t stop. Once he released me, I let him slide from my mouth with an audible pop. I eagerly gulped down a mouthful of air and took over with my hand as I caught my breath.

Only a few jerks within my grasp had Ivar whining again. He shifted helplessly at the edge of the bed. A low growl coursed through him at length when I sucked him down again, focusing more attention to his head while my hand slid up and down his shaft in tandem with my mouth. Once my fingers met my lips, I clenched and twisted – the sound that came out of Ivar was _inhuman_.

“ _Enough_ ,” he instantly grit out. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

I pulled away. Licked at the saliva coating my lips as I peered up at him, waiting for instruction.

His eyes were crazed as he gave my hair a tug. “On the bed.”

I quickly climbed back onto the bed beside him. It was a tangle of limbs as we rushed to embrace each other, and I gave his shirt an eager tug.

“May I?” I asked, thinking that perhaps I had to ask for permission for these sorts of things now.

Ivar barely managed moaning a ‘yes’ before kissing me again. He groaned into my mouth, a painful distraction as I attempted to undo the buttons of his blouse. I’d barely gotten to the swell of his toned stomach before, once again, he became impatient and tore the garment from himself.

His naked torso was like a godsend; I momentarily lost myself in the smoothness of his skin, tried getting an eyeful out of each muscular delve and curve to his body. I wasn’t even close to satiated when he was pushing me down to lay back on the mattress. It was only in desperation to feel him that I scurried backward, spreading my legs to make room for him to sidle on top of me.

Instead, he grabbed my hip and abruptly turned me onto my stomach. Only then did he approach, snaking his way between my legs.

“Ivar,” I whimpered in anticipation, legs trembling as I couldn’t see him behind me. Two hands gripped harshly onto my ass, hoisted me up to be on my knees.

“Can I be rough with you, Lisbet?”

From the feel of his breath, I could tell he hovered somewhere closely beyond my ass. Just the thought of it made me sense the weight of his stare on my most private parts.

Before I could answer, he licked a broad stripe through my pussy and between my asscheeks. My skirt was bunched around my waist, hardly existent as he began to fuck me with his tongue. I’d long left the realm of straight thinking; instead lost myself to Ivar’s ministrations behind my back. I couldn’t tell what was more erotic – his mouth on me in this position, or the pleased grunts he made at my taste.

The reverie was cut short as his palm connected with my already sensitive flesh.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, Ivar,” I panted, needing him inside of me now more than ever. “ _Please_.”

He pinned my body to the mattress in a second, covered it with his in the next. One hand fell to keep me pinned by my shoulder, and the other gripped his cock. He didn’t even waste time to tease me like I knew he so enjoyed – just drilled into me with one swift thrust.

Our voices were harmonious at the relief of his entrance. Ivar’s hands were erratic, shifting each part of me around until he could set a forearm over my shoulder, keep his hand clamped on the other, and thrust into me with abandon at his newfound leverage.

My eyes clenched shut at the strength of him; I had to struggle to keep my mouth shut to prevent my teeth from clattering together each time our hips met. I arched my spine just the slightest as I squealed through closed lips – only _now_ pondered if anyone else was in the house to hear us, though Ivar was proving to be better in control of his voice than I.

His hand left my shoulder, formed another fist through my hair and pulled until my neck craned. The angle forced my jaw to unhinge – immediately I was crying out Ivar’s name like a prayer, mewling and whining. The sheets suddenly felt like tissue paper in my clenched fists.

“You sound so fucking good like this,” Ivar graveled in my ear, grunting through every word. His lips sealed around my earlobe, gnawed on it while he quietly groaned.

I all but faceplanted into the mattress when he suddenly let go of my hair, but he was quick to coax his fingers around my neck. My hips immediately spasmed as a hot thrill of need impaled me. For the first time ever, I hoped a rumor about Ivar would be true – that he’d want to choke me. Deprive me of breathing with the hand that tickled my throat.

I nearly came on the spot when my hope was fulfilled.

“Would you like if I choked you, Lisbet?” His voice was hoarse and raspy; he was audibly losing control. More so with every snap of his hips. My response was a shrill chorus of yeses and pleases, only making him chuckle in my ear. “It sounds like you would,” he teased.

It was a sudden emptiness as Ivar pulled out of me; I almost snapped at him until he said – “I want to watch you” – and turned me onto my back.

I was breathless at the sight of him – entirely flushed and glistening, hair a beautiful fucking mess, darkened by a halo of sweat. Then I was weightless as he shifted me closer to him, wrapped my legs around him. He drove his cock back inside me with a snarl. His beaded eyes were glued to my throat and only when he set a pace did he settle his large hand over it.

Ivar squeezed in short bursts at first, playing carefully with my airway as if it were a fragile instrument. His mouth fell open, obsessively gauging my reaction for any signal it was too much. I merely pulled him closer, sunk my nails into his waist. Ivar took the encouragement and squeezed again, held down for longer this time. Heat flooded my face in the same way it filled the rest of me.

He quickly sped up his hips, released my airway so I could get a gulpful of oxygen. The next bout was done with no leave; Ivar's hand clenched over my throat again and he didn’t let up until he felt me tighten around him – my eyes rolled back as my pulse quickened, my hips bucked from the bed, and my mouth bobbed silently where my moans should've been.

It was the first time I’d ever experienced simultaneous orgasms. Just as a burning coil spread from my groin to my toes, Ivar let go of my neck and sank on top of me. His own body rippled and he doused his load inside of me with a guttural sigh.

We were both still gasping for air when he planted a sloppy kiss on me, one that meant bashing of lips and clanging of teeth. And soon after, Ivar’s rigid body relaxed, and he slumped over to my side with a groan of elation.

My entire self tingled. I was still twitching, still catching my breath. My mind was utterly clear.

“Do you – enjoy it like that?” Ivar inquired, his voice ridden with exhaustion.

I was on such a high, I could barely understand what he was asking. “Hm?”

“Me – claiming dominion over you.”

Somehow, I managed the strength to whine. The back of my hand flopped on his chest in attempt of a playful smack. “Honestly, Ivar, _where_ did you learn to speak like this?”

Suddenly, he was wrapped around me again. Ivar tucked me against his chest, holding me tight. I could only sigh happily and snuggle into him, purring into his warm skin. “That does not answer my question.”

“Yes, Ivar,” I answered obediently, much to his approval. His rough palms rubbed into my flesh, he planted kisses anywhere he could reach and whatever coherency was still left in my mind realized that this was his initiation of aftercare. “ _Very_ much…”

 

 

The next day, I woke up to a soft cooing in my ear.

At first, I smiled happily. Sleepily rubbed my naked body into the soft sheets that bound me tight… But the more alert I became, the more I came to realize that the weight next to me didn’t belong to my boyfriend. Didn’t feel nearly as heavy, nor did it smell remotely similar.

“Wakey wakey, Lisbet.”

My eyes shot open before I could properly identify the female voice.

Kwenthrith was stretched out on the bed beside me, propped on her elbows, staring down at me with her chin propped on a palm as if I were an experiment.

I clung to the sheets that covered me, thankful nothing was peeking out for this woman to see. Were there no _boundaries_  with these people?

“Where’s Ivar?” I squeaked, voice thick with sleep. My eyes darted around the bedroom to find it completely vacant of him. Little fucking bastard. We were going to have a chat about the ways in which he left me alone.

“Cooking breakfast for his sweet, sweet maid,” she sang, smiling brightly. She was dressed in pajamas, a dark green, silk nightie with a matching robe of the same material. Her flawless face was void of makeup and she still managed to look incredible with her long, flowy locks cascading over her shoulders and down her back. “How he left the bed is beyond me… You look _exquisite_ when you’re sleeping.”

I cocked a brow. “You were watching me sleep?”

“Only for a moment,” Kwenthrith admitted with a light shrug. It was a good thing I’d been growing to like this woman. Her lascivious nature was one to behold; that I was _very_ naked beneath a sheet did naught to help. “But I do have purpose for my intrusion. I’ve made some plans for your afternoon.”

“ _Huh_?”

Kwenthrith grinned and turned to lay on her back, propped up against the pillows. I almost felt a twinge of possessiveness until I recalled the utter filth left behind on what she laid upon.

“I’d like to have you fit for a dress,” she said, much to my shock. “I asked Ivar if you had something ravishing to wear for tonight and he became awfully grumpy about a number of cardigans…”

I scoffed, flopping back to lay next to her. I ought to slap him. But then I thought – “Dinner? Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t realize I was invited…” I’d even had plans with Sofia to meet her for drinks, thinking Ivar would be occupied for the evening.

Kwenthrith looked appalled; furrowed her sharp brows in my direction. “But of _course_ , you are,” she insisted. “You are Ivar’s woman, now. You _must_ be in attendance.” And then very rapidly under her breath she added – “And the place is quite fancy - a cardigan will not suffice.”

It didn’t sound too terrible, I supposed. I’d never been fitted for a dress before. Perhaps it’d be… fun?

“ _Kwenthrith_.”

We both turned our heads just as Ivar came back into the room. He was glaring daggers as he crutched his way toward to the bed. And I would’ve cared more for his annoyance if he hadn’t looked so attractive. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a plum-colored, long-sleeved thermal that was absolutely _way_ too tight. Each muscle of his torso bulged as he carried himself, and the pants hung so dangerously low on his hips that the smallest sliver of skin peeked out.

“Ivar!” Kwenthrith squealed next to me, only somewhat averting my line of sight. “I was just telling Lisbet that I’ve arranged a dress to be tailored to her. A bit last minute but -”

“ _Get off_ my bed, Kwenthrith,” Ivar snapped, jerking his head to the door.

She pouted, but didn’t need a second telling. Sending me one last smile, Kwenthrith rose and took her leave of us. “I hope you made enough breakfast for myself and Beatrice,” she chided as she passed him. “She had quite a busy night with your brother – she’s famished.”

Ivar scowled and she raised her hands high in self-defense, just before closing the door behind her.

“I wish you did not hear that…” he said solemnly as he resumed her seat.

“Trust me, Hvitserk has quite the reputation for getting around. I can’t say that I’m…” I trailed, taking note of Ivar’s expression turning much more bitter. “Not Hvitserk?” I dared to ask. No woman in her right mind – especially one as beautiful as Beatrice – would sleep with Sigurd.

I gasped at my own revelation. “ _Ubbe_?”

Ivar closed his eyes in annoyance, as if he was regretting even addressing Kwenthrith’s statement.

“Ubbe’s having an _affair_?”

“It has been known to happen.”

“But… _Ubbe_ ,” was all I could say, still baffled.

“Do not mention it.”

“I won’t, I just…” I shook my head. Then remembered what Ivar had told me regarding love and Ubbe’s marriage. “I’m surprised… He’s such a gentleman.”

Ivar scoffed and raised his brows. “We cannot all be gentlemen.”

It was my turn to scoff. “I hope you don’t presume to think you are a gentleman, Ivar,” I scolded playfully, nudging his back with my foot. He feigned being affronted and I had to laugh. “Leave me here to be woken by that _wild_ woman,” I said dramatically. “And insulting my cardigans…”

Ivar groaned loudly, letting his head tip back.

“If you have a problem with my wardrobe, Ivar, just say so,” I pestered, not giving him a break.

He gave me a longing look, pulled himself closer to me. “I do not have a problem with your wardrobe,” he insisted. “But I must admit, the cardigans are not worthy of you.”

My face fell flat in an instant. I was entirely taken aback by the compliment. It rendered me speechless, and my willingness to torture him evaporated.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ivar questioned.

I bit my lip; an ache for him was brewing in my bones and I couldn’t deny it.

“I want you.”

Ivar’s smirk was cocky but I couldn’t help but notice the slight pink tint that suddenly rouged his cheeks. “I’ve cooked,” he said, trying to ignore my pass at him. “You should eat.”

But I was already pulling his sheets from my body. He looked too good to pass up. The weekend was the only chance I could get my hands on him and I wasn’t going to waste it on breakfast. Wasn’t hungry for whatever may have been in the kitchen.

The effect was instant; Ivar’s eyes darkened, honing in on my breasts as soon as they were revealed to him. I leaned toward him, pinched his sleeve while I aimed for a kiss.

Ivar caught me by the throat just before our lips could touch. I whimpered at his tight grasp – it only made me want him more. He moved so quickly and with such ease that I could barely tell what was happening, was too focused on the look in his eyes, that I was but a rag doll by his hands as he got me on my back, moved halfway on top of me.

His breathing was already ragged, eyes scoured my body so intensely that I found myself sobbing. Ivar had said he wanted me to be his submissive; looked at me now like I was his prey. I trembled beneath him, doubting I would ever become accustomed to this – to _him_ – but I would freely cede to him all the same.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been ages since I last updated, so apologies for that, but I think I'm back in the swing of things, and as always want to thank the shit out of all of you who've been so supportive of me and this story. Hope this one was worth the wait! Xx.

 

All afternoon, I’d been able to keep my wits about me. Surprisingly, I’d enjoyed the process of getting poked and prodded and catered to when it came to being fitted for clothes – though the dress itself was another story…

But nerves struck as I sat in the most expensive car I had ever been inside of. I kept telling myself that this was just a dinner, a meal simply shared between business partners. But the ambiance of it all – the car, the dress with a price tag that made my eyes bulge, the prospective fancy restaurant – it was more than just dinner. This was a wholly unfamiliar lifestyle I was embarking on, looking in on like an outsider, putting it on my list of things to acclimate to that was growing longer and longer by the day.

The dress barely helped. It was gorgeous, yes. Column styled, a hairs width loose from clinging around me from shoulder to ankle. But I was used to loose clothes, nothing conforming, certainly not that attention grabbing, whereas this was a strapless number made of champagne-colored satin. The amount of skin I bore – even the color making me seem unreasonably tanner under typical Danish skies – made me feel more vulnerable and on display than could be considered comfortable.

“So – what is it that you _do_ , exactly?” I asked Kwenthrith. At this point, any distraction was worth it. It took my all not to fumble with the fabric, to attempt hiking up the swooping neckline so as to hide just a little more cleavage. I wasn’t entirely insecure about my looks or body, but I rarely invited the eyes of others, either.

“Have I not told you already?” She pondered; voice dreamy as she gazed idly through the window, wind drafting through her thick, long locks. We sat beside each other in the spacious backseat, and Beatrice rode in the front with the driver. All the unfamiliarity even had me missing Cris…

“I’m a Dominatrix, sweetheart,” she answered eventually. And given the hints I had up until now, I found it actually made perfect sense. It certainly explained her way with men; how she seemed to flirt yet defend herself in a singular package dripping with charisma.

“And is that how you met the Lothbrok’s or…?”

“ _No_.” She chuckled at my careful sidestepping, but shook her head. “No – though I did meet Ragnar through mutual benefactors. I sought asylum with him and Aslaug after my uncle and brother died.”

It was refreshing, having someone so forthcoming with information when I was surrounded by secrets more often than not these days. “Sought asylum?”

Kwenthrith glanced at me as if sizing me up. It was the sternest her face had ever appeared; thin eyebrows furrowing pointedly together over her sharp nose. She was still strikingly beautiful, wearing another red gown that cinched tightly around her breasts, but fanned out loosely and flowy everywhere else.

“Brimming with questions, are you?”

“S-sorry,” I stuttered, suddenly feeling I crossed my bounds. “It’s just… With Ivar, I practically have to threaten him to learn anything.”

“Hush hush, is he?” Kwenthrith clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Yes – he is quite the silent, _broody_ type, isn’t he?”

I couldn’t help but laugh – welcoming the relief. We nodded at each other, smiling brightly in agreement before she sobered up some. And whatever she had been contemplating, I had apparently been met with approval.

“My uncle was a twisted man, Lisbet. And my brother even worse, in some ways.” She paused to withdraw a pack of cigarettes from her clutch – a matching crimson – and offered me one as well, which I gratefully accepted. She continued only when we were both lit up. “They were abusers, of me and others, and in an array of methods I dare not burden you with. They were overly rich men with whom consequences did not touch until I put a stop to it.”

“I was just about your age when I killed them both in their sleep.”

She took a break to pull a drag from her cigarette, and perhaps to let her words sink in.

“There was little affiliation between my family and the Mob. So, I sought protection under Ragnar, knowing at some point my uncle’s loyal subjects – or even his enemies might come after me. Of course – the Lothbrok pull over law enforcement certainly helped when it came to deportation laws…”

“Ragnar protected you?”

“Yes, very much so,” Kwenthrith confirmed. And there was a look in her eye that showed she very much admired him. I found myself more curious about Ragnar than ever before, learning this piece about him from someone unrelated to the family. “He helped provide for me while I established myself. Taught me the ways of the business. And I’ve put it to use to pay him and his back in kind.”

We fell into silence for a short while. My mind was buzzing from all of the complicated dynamics that were circling around me. But it was calming, too. To be granted all-access when it came to such private details. And Ragnar… I knew little of Ragnar. Ivar never spoke of him to me. I felt much better about the notorious gangster who raised my boyfriend, knowing that he had the decency and compassion to care for someone in such circumstance.

“And so, I must ask…” Kwenthrith spoke up, breaking my train of thought. “What is it like, being the girlfriend of Ivar Lothbrok?”

“That’s a… loaded topic,” was all I could find to respond with. It felt like much longer, but Ivar and I had hardly been ‘official’ for long. And what we had shared together was more – strenuous than was my average experience with the opposite sex.

“I am sure,” she mused. “Though, I cannot help my curiosity. I’ve known him for basically his entire life and not once have I seen him with a woman.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well – I did try and spare you by specifying monogamy. But if you do wish to know -”

“- I don’t.” _God_ , my fucking face burned just thinking about it. I wasn’t stupid. Regardless of the obvious insecurities Ivar held, it was just as obvious that he could have anyone he wanted. Before I’d even seen him for the first time in school two years ago, I’d heard the reputation of his good looks. Then there was his experience in bed… I didn’t know who he’d been with or how often, but it was more than evident that he’d certainly gotten it. He was too good for me to worry about it in the moment, but otherwise, the thought made me feel sick.

“You are both quite possessive of each other.”

I took a wealthy drag from my cigarette before turning my head to face her. She was watching me, pleasantly so.

“I can tell,” she continued. I had half a mind to question if it had anything to do with my reactions to her constant groping of him, but she continued speaking. “I suppose that must be the case with the type of dynamic you play with.”

I sputtered incredulously. “How could you possibly -?”

“Oh, please,” Kwenthrith drawled. “I know a Dom when I see one. I may have even given him a tip or two – he is so eager to learn.” I must have balked at her statement, for she hastened to add – “Not like that, Lisbet, my god. I used to babysit those boys, honestly. He might be nice to look at, but…”

We laughed together again. I was now thankful that I was riding to the restaurant with her. She’d been relieving my stress for sure, but now I almost got the sense that I could actually have fun.

“So begs the question,” she teetered with. “Have you thought of what there is to gain by being with him? Besides what you have already, I mean.”

Her tone had turned into something so insinuative that I looked at her under furrowed brows, curious as to what she meant.

“Ivar is unlike most men, Lisbet,” she remarked. But with the way she said it made it clear that his unique quirks were not what she was referring to. “The Lothbrok’s are among the most powerful families in Scandinavia. You would do well to think of what sort of position that puts you in.”

She was touching on something I was only recently coming to grips with. The responsibilities that I may come to have by having a relationship with a Mob Boss. The way I’d come to benefit outside of simple romance with such a connection. ‘ _Ivar’s woman_ ,’ she’d called me, and that title had more weight to it than your average significant other terminology.

We pulled up to the restaurant as I mulled it over. I wasn’t ready for this conversation to end. No one had taken the time to discuss this with me and there was no how-to guide in the way of, I daresay - gangsters.

I believed I was an honest and morally sound person, and yet, the aspect couldn’t be ignored.

“I’d always wanted to become close to Aslaug,” I admitted. “I wanted to learn from her – how to be… _This_. Before I even realized what _this_ is.”

Kwenthrith reached over to give my hand a squeeze, and we tossed our cigarette butts from the window in unison. “She was a dear friend of mine… She was strong – and very wise. She would’ve been a sound mentor, to say the least.”

I smiled warmly at her.

“And a _woman_ to go to.”

“Yes.”

“This has been fun, hasn’t it?” She asked cheerfully. The driver had gotten out of the car to open the door for Beatrice; was rounding the vehicle to do the same for us. “I leave town tomorrow, but we must stay in touch, Lisbet. I see much potential in you.”

 

On a Saturday night, the _Norna_ was completely booked. As one of the most popular, upscale restaurants in the city, it supposedly took months just to secure a reservation. Not to mention, a single dinner for one was known to cost upwards of fifteen-hundred kroner.

It was a gorgeous, two-story building of white stone, with a waterfront view just north of Nyhavn. Its tinted windows reflected the rich colors of sunset, made all the brighter by the canal it resided on.

My gin-drinking, dive bar-attending self would never contemplate setting foot in a place like this. I almost had to laugh as I made my way through the entrance, trailing slightly behind Kwenthrith and Beatrice.

Inside was just as grand with magnificent crystal chandeliers hanging from high ceilings. I blindly followed along when a Hostess saw to Kwenthrith and led us through the floor. A raucous crowd surrounded the pleated glass, oval-shaped bar in the center of the room, filling the place with buzzing energy. It seemed half of the customers were comprised of sailors, evidently a fleet from the Navy celebrating their return.

I knew of a few people who squeezed their way in here just to experience a spot on one of the many barstools. I’d heard that even their cocktails ran price tags at over a hundred kroner each.

My eyes danced around in complete fascination. I might’ve been distressed over my wardrobe, but now I only felt thankful for it as I appeared to fit right in. The more I ogled at others, the swarming crowd that probably totaled at about two-hundred patrons, the less self-conscious I became.

Then a piercing whistle interrupted my reverie.

“ _Lisbet_!” Hvitserk sang. I hadn’t even realized we’d reached what was to be our table. “Look at _you_.”

He was the first to stand at the oaken table for ten – of course, it only drew the attention of the rest of the party, and Ubbe, Sigurd and Floki all rose from their chairs to greet us. Ivar, Margrethe, and who I could only assume as Floki’s companion stayed seated.

Ivar had looked bored. He’d been propped up on one elbow, chin plopped into the palm of his hand, with a face that plainly expressed that he hadn’t been listening to any conversation in quite some time. But as we approached, his posture straightened at once.

It seemed so goddamn cliché, but I found myself falling nostalgic over those stupid teen romance movies. Those moments where time seemed to slow down, and a sensual song played in the background as two lovers’ eyes met. But _fuck_ , if I didn’t feel it just then.

I could recognize the music of Pretty Lights playing distantly while the sounds of those around us faded into a dull buzzing in my ears. Ivar’s blue eyes were suddenly focused intensely on me, and with a stare so palpable that my breath hitched in my chest. Even the lingering gazes of his brothers had no effect on me; Ivar’s own outshone them by far.

I pulled my hair over my shoulder to shield my burning face. There were two empty chairs on either side of him, and I rounded the table while his line of sight held steady on me. I’d barely gotten my legs around the seat beside him and he was already leaning over to run his hand over my thigh.

“You are beautiful, Lisbet,” Ivar murmured into my ear. My skin tingled, emboldened at the compliment.

I could hear his tongue cluck against the roof of his mouth, and then his hand left my thigh, only to run his fingers through my hair and draw it away from my face. My heart fluttered as I forced myself to meet his eye.

“I think the _whole table_ can attest to that, Brother.” Hvitserk chirped in. He occupied the spot next to me, but luckily my back was turned to him just then as I found myself much more enthralled in Ivar. There was a heat in his glare that was reminiscent of our more intimate moments together – I could recognize that look on his face easily now. I basked in it. Self-consciousness ebbing from me in steady waves as I was granted this sort of… affirmation in his approval of me.

I repaid him with the same sort of treatment, finally taking the opportunity to reap in Ivar’s own ensemble. He wore a dark navy, three-piece suit, with a vest that was fitted so exquisitely to his long torso, I had to fight the urge to grope my way over his toned stomach. My fingertips itched to touch him, even the chrome grey tie that hung from his neck was working magic.

Ivar leaned toward me, ducking his head to lightly press his lips onto the corner of my mouth. Just that tiny tease of a gesture had my lashes fluttering, worsened by the rich scent of his cologne wafting through my senses. I’d never been in public with Ivar in this manner before. This was the closest thing to an actual _date_ we’d partaken in. To receive this type of affection so openly was… slightly overwhelming, to say the least.

Soft lips trailed across my cheek to find my ear again. “I think it has just been established that I must pay to have you dressed more often,” he remarked, speaking lower this time so as to not be overheard. “There is little else I want to do besides take you home right now… Given I could keep my hands off of you for that long.”

He remained close as his words sunk in, and it was a struggle not to make a sound in place of my desire. Another kiss followed behind my jaw this time, pressed upon more solidly before he retreated, hand resuming its place on my thigh.

“Don’t dare to take all the credit, Ivar,” Kwenthrith chastised from the other side of him. “The color was entirely _my_ suggestion. Quite suiting for her, is it not?”

Ivar licked his lips as he slowly perused the length of me, down and up, and down again.

“Then I suppose a thank you is in order, Kwenthrith,” he offered. I felt a smidge irritated when he turned away to address her. She appeared devious as ever receiving his attention. She might’ve clarified that there were no inappropriate intentions where Ivar was concerned, but that didn’t make me feel any better as she eyed him as though he were a delicious meal.

“You have done me well,” he continued, putting on that husky voice that left me squirming. Ever the charmer he had to be, still wooing with his words. And Kwenthrith had been correct – I could feel my possessive side brimming within, wishing she’d been sat on the complete opposite end of the table even though I was so fond of her.

She smiled even brighter at him. Tilted in his direction as her eyes twinkled. “You don’t look so bad, either. Very _fit_ ,” she annunciated, teeth clicking on the word. Her hand reached out, apparently as eager as mine to touch him. Long, spindly fingers splayed apart, open palm aiming somewhere beneath Ivar’s sternum –

Little thought crossed my mind before I intercepted and caught her wrist in my grasp.

The entire table paused, each person’s head swiveling around to look on at the altercation. Ivar’s included. There was a moment of strangled silence as I realized just exactly what I’d done, but it was too late to try and brush it off now.

I cracked a smile, cocking a brow at Kwenthrith as I loosened my grip and massaged my thumb into her skin.

“He’s spoken for, Kwenthrith.” I playfully chided.

Relief flooded my limbs when she threw her head back and roared with laughter, then tore her hand back, clutching it to her chest dramatically with a mock pout. “Point taken, woman! He is all yours.”

For the most part, the table went on about its business. Busying themselves with menus and passing around pitchers of wine that had already been ordered.

“I think the lady needs a drink,” Hvitserk commented beside me.

There was no denying that. He filled my glass with red wine, which I gratefully accepted and took down a mouthful straight away. I pivoted to Ivar, intent to cheers with him, but came to a halt upon seeing his facial expression.

“Tell me you aren’t upset,” I snapped sardonically.

His face immediately relaxed. His eyes had been narrowed, brows knit together so closely that his forehead wrinkled. It was like he was trying to figure out some sort of maths equation.

“No,” he said softly, but didn’t elaborate any further. Instead, he pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and covered my mouth with his in a kiss that was so gentle, it shouldn’t have held the ability to make my head spin in the way it did.

I just barely heard Ubbe rise from his seat, clinking a knife on his glass to propose a toast.

“Not at the table, you two,” he scolded.

“Yes – not sure if I speak for anyone else, but I for one would like to keep my appetite,” Sigurd chimed in.

Ivar glared at him from over his shoulder, but nevertheless, he dropped his hand and gave an exaggerated roll to his head as he righted himself in his seat. As if an afterthought, he went back for my hand and tugged it into his lap, securely twining our fingers together.

Ubbe began his toast, taking the time to thank everyone for their presence in tonight’s dinner, but most notably for Kwenthrith for organizing it in the first place. It was hard to pay attention when he spoke. For one, I had Ivar’s strong hand wrapped around mine, grip tight like there was more intent behind it than simple hand holding.

But I also could not help but notice the people surrounding us. Ubbe was a tall enough man to be an eyesore to anybody else in the restaurant. Yet it seemed to me that people were not merely glancing by because of his height. As he rambled on, several pairs of eyes glued onto our table, and I was starting to realize it was more because of _who_ sat at this table, not because we had an eloquent orator.

Was this how it always was with the Lothbrok’s? Eyes everywhere, leering on. Snooping to get some fix on the alluring mystery that bubbled around this family. From school, I’d gotten a taste of nosy onlookers. Hell, it wasn’t so long ago that I’d been on the other line of that rope – had looked on nosily myself. But school was different. Gossip and rumors were like coming of age tropes that went with the territory. But this? This was high class society. This was the overly privileged, the rich, and the successful.

The more I looked around, the more I could feel the weight of their stares.

It was hard to believe that the Lothbrok’s were so unaffected by it. That they had the composure to deal with such prying behavior, on top of the regular presence of chaos in their lives. All seemed at ease as the night went on, and it started to be contagious – especially while Hvitserk insisted on keeping my glass full – but I couldn’t keep my mind off of it. How they could they could come together like this without a semblance of drama, save for the snide comments from Sigurd every now and then.

I’d been introduced to Floki’s companion – his wife, Helga. Quite possibly the sweetest woman I’d ever met who associated with the Lothbrok’s. She was a Chef and restaurant owner, they had a three-year-old daughter, and it all seemed so fucking domestic that it was completely mystifying that these people could be gangsters in the first place.

…It gave me hope.

Throughout our first course, I could barely look away from Ivar. Wondered if this would ever become so routine for us, if we could go on dates, be seen publicly. If we could share happiness in the way that Floki and Helga _so clearly_ did – even when I had the knowledge that Floki only just recently killed a man. In all this tumultuous chaos, this deceit, the danger and crime, could Ivar and I really make it? Seeing the family like this made me hope so.

But the ease of amicability didn’t last long.

The group of sailors at the bar was becoming rowdier and catching more attention as time went by. It did appear evident that a fleet from the Danish Royal Navy had just made port, for even some Press – much to the annoyance of the restaurant – managed to sneak in for pictures of the men in uniform.

Though it was still unclear to me why, a tense atmosphere was growing at our table. Floki and each of the brothers took turns warily surveying the bar, but kept quiet about their sudden change in demeanors.

Ubbe was all too indiscreetly turned around in his chair to face them when a man moseyed over from the noisy group to say hello.

All of our backs straightened at who it was.

“Ubbe Lothbrok – what are surprising pleasure bumping into you here.”

“Mister Prime Minister,” Ubbe greeted so quickly it sounded like one word. My jaw nearly unhinged as he rushed to stand from his chair and shake his hand.

Alfred Ecbert was such an unassuming looking man that I couldn’t contain my shock to see him just – _standing_ there. The effect was made no lesser by the fact that Ubbe had at least fifteen centimeters on him. Ecbert looked so… _normal_. Even his tailored grey suit looked less expensive than what the Lothbrok’s themselves wore.

His blonde hair was softly combed back, his blue tie loosened, a glass of scotch was in his hand… An image that encompassed ‘casual’ entirely.

“What sort of occasion brings you to Denmark?” Ubbe asked, clearly still reeling from his presence. “The _Norna_ , even.”

Ecbert’s eyes appraised the length of the table, slowly passing over us from end to end. I chanced a brief glance at Ivar, whose jaw was tightly clenched down on itself. That darkness he hid so well was seeping out through tiny cracks in his composure. I took his hand in mine, squeezing it as reassuringly as possible. There were workings here I didn’t yet fully understand. Exposure to the shared past between these men and their deceased father.

“Well, as it stands, one of the Commanding ships from your Navy has just returned from a successful Task venture at sea -” He discussed it so lightly, like the topic was the weather. “- I saw fit to personally greet them.”

“That is very kind of you,” Ubbe commended with a nod.

“I do like to stay in contact with our allies,” Ecbert elaborated, cheerfully raising his glass. He was well skilled in charisma, but with the underlying tension, it was hard not to feel a staleness in their small talk. “And what of you?” He went on to ask, curiously gesturing at the table with his drink. “I’ve not seen a public appearance from all the Lothbrok’s together. Is this some sort of celebration?”

Ivar’s grip turned painful around my hand.

“In a manner of speaking,” Ubbe replied. He nodded his head toward Kwenthrith. “Our dear friend is in town for the weekend and has been kind enough to show us a lovely night out.”

“ _Kwenthrith_ ,” Ecbert remarked. Of course, he knew her, too. _Everyone_ seemed to know each other in this business. “Yes, she and I go way back.”

I peered at her in time to catch her wicked smile as she raised her glass to him.

Ecbert stared at her for longer than necessary before gasping lightly as if he’d forgotten. “I did mean to extend my condolences, Ubbe, I was heartbroken – utterly _heartbroken_ to hear about your mother.”

Ubbe saved face well enough to be impressive. His chin touched his chest as he grimaced, but he clapped a hand over Ecbert’s shoulder. Both Ivar and Hvitserk shifted on either side of me; looking back and forth between them, it seemed as if they’d bite their tongues off from trying to keep silent.

“Thank you, Prime Minister,” Ubbe recovered with a sincere smile. “It means a lot to know she is kept in your thoughts.”

Ecbert dramatically set his palm over his heart, leaned even closer to say something more, when a sotted shout interrupted him.

“ _Brother_!”

We were shortly joined by another; a sailor in uniform. This one as towering as Ubbe, but broader in the shoulders. He was quite handsome, with a faded undercut topped with fine blonde hair. His uniform was slightly disheveled as he was partaking in the festivities, and his pale cheeks blossomed with a bright pink blush.

The whole table could barely withhold their groans of dismay. I could put two and two together. This had to be Björn.

“ _Half_ -brother,” Ivar couldn’t keep from muttering under his breath. Björn didn’t hear him as he came to stand between Ecbert and Ubbe, loudly smacking Ubbe’s back.

“Look at this – the whole family together,” he slurred. “No invite?”

Ecbert chuckled. “Of course, how could I not mention I was also visiting with Björn Lothbrok? You know, I quite enjoy following his career at sea. I can remember when he was little -”

“No need to embarrass me,” Björn said playfully. He gave each of the brothers a heavy look, mood visibly sobering at the sight of them. It was daunting how they all played their parts like this. Boldly lied to each other’s faces when we all knew what was going on in the sidelines.

“Sigurd, Hvitserk,” he nodded to each of them. His shit-eating grin turned more into a sneer as he settled on Ivar.

“Ivar.”

“Björn,” Ivar grit back. “How nice it is to see you home safely. We do _hate_ to worry.”

Floki choked on his drink biting back a shrill giggle.

“Floki,” Björn nodded to him as well. “It has been too long. I should like us all to get together and play catch up.”

Ivar’s laugh was downright menacing, raised bumps on my skin. “Soon enough,” he assured.

His patronizing tone didn’t sit well with a drunken Björn. He brought himself closer to the table, even making Ecbert’s eyes dance around uncomfortably, as if looking for someone who might be eavesdropping.

But then Björn looked at me, and a devilish grin pulled at his lips. “Who’s the girl?”

“The girl is Lisbet,” I couldn’t help but snap. I didn’t like the way he leered at me, nor was I appreciative at how hard he was trying to come off as intimidating. I forced myself to smile. “I am Ivar’s girlfriend.”

This seemed to do naught but delight him. His teeth bared as his grin turned brighter, and he dragged his gaze from me to Ivar.

“Is that true, Ivar? This is your girlfriend?” He chuckled to himself. “How _progressive_ of you.”

I could hear the snarl before Ivar ripped his hand from my grasp, but whatever he was about to do was brushed aside as Ubbe put himself between Björn and the table. He spoke low enough to him that I couldn’t hear what was said, but whatever it was, made Björn take a step back, and Ecbert intervened.

“Yes, how about we talk privately? I am due to buy another round, anyway. Ubbe, perhaps your wife will join us?”

“Of course,” Ubbe mumbled, but he and Margrethe looked less than pleased at the idea. He took her hand as she stood, and the small group wandered back to the bar.

“Fucking prick,” Ivar sneered, jarring the table with his fist. “Thinks he’s so fucking impressive, flaunting around with Ecbert like he’s _important_.”

“There is one good thing I gather from that,” Kwenthrith said beside him. “If he’s depending on an alliance with Ecbert, he must believe he cannot take Scandinavia.”

 

 

The next morning, I was woken to the blaring sound of my cellphone ringing. I’d been in the middle of such a blissful sleep, that the sound of the ringtone jostled me with a start. Bleary eyed, I reoriented to my surroundings and glanced at my phone.

Sofia’s name blinked across the Caller ID… I blinked at it, watched it ring in my pause. I couldn’t explain it, but instantly, there was a bad feeling brewing in my stomach.

“Hello, Sofia,” I croaked tiredly.

“Hello, Lisbet.” Her voice seemed strained, almost hushed as if she was trying to keep from being overheard. “I know you are… _indisposed_ … But will you come back to the dorms soon?”

“What’s going on?”

“Your dad is here.”

I shot up in bed so fast, I became lightheaded. “He’s _what_?”

“He asked for me to call you and find out when you were coming back. He says he will wait.”

The fact that he hadn’t called me himself made this all the more worrisome. That could only allude to what sort of mood he was in. _Something_ was on his mind, and as my eyes slid over the body under the blanket next to me, I was apprehensive to find out what.

“Tell him I’m on my way.”

As soon as the call ended, I jumped from the bed and grabbed my backpack – _tore_ my clothes out and haphazardly pulled them on.

“What is going on?” Ivar asked, voice as groggy as mine. I was in such a hurry, I could barely spare him a glance while I busied with a pair of jeans and my bra. I especially tried avoiding looking at him as he sat up. He was also undressed, a sight that was only tempting me to climb back onto the bed and hide beneath the blanket with him. His hair was mussed, slipping one lock at a time from his hair tie... Ivar was adorable when sleepy.

“My father is on campus waiting for me.”

It was a relief to find a fresh cardigan in my bag. The slightest shade of purple was blooming around my wrists, and I couldn’t dare face Father if they were visible.

“The Lawyer.”

My motions stuttered as I put my sneakers back on. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised; it did make sense that Ivar would know who my father was. Father had been backing cases against the Lothbrok’s for ages. Another detail I knew little about. It only made me dread the drive back to campus even more. Just thinking about it… I could feel a wave of nerves sloshing around in my stomach like nausea.

“Yes. That’d be the one.”

After brushing my teeth, I tied my hair back as I returned to Ivar to say goodbye. For a moment, we didn’t move; I stood staring at him with a pout, and he sat looking up at me, brows furrowed as if there was more on his mind than he was letting on.

Our weekend was being cut short. I wanted to see him later, but knew he’d probably decline since we had class in the morning. Given what we occupied ourselves with in our private time, I couldn’t say he was entirely wrong for setting such a boundary. But still… I felt like I was only growing more needy for him as time went on. The downward spiral of last night’s events didn’t make it easier. To wind up in bed to lose ourselves in each other after merely sunk me deeper into the rabbit hole that was Ivar.

I finally climbed back onto the bed; it was too large to simply sit on the edge and bid him farewell. I had to crawl to the center of it in order to drape my arms over his shoulders.

“I’ll call you later or something?” I said. I was still getting used to this thing we called a relationship. Still trying to figure out what our routines and protocols were.

Ivar nodded and gave my lips a quick peck. I was missing him already. “Don’t rush,” he briefly lectured. “I will not be there to get you out of another ticket.”

 

Father was already waiting outside my building by the time I was briskly making my way up the sidewalk. I froze upon seeing him… My father was not a small man. He was just about as tall as Ivar, but it was his body mass that made him appear even bigger – intimidating when he intended it. Throughout eight years of Uni, he participated in the Rugby club, and in the years since, he and his Attorney pals got together for basketball at least three times a week.

It was his day off, but he was still looking surprisingly sharp in pressed pants and a grey waistcoat over a white blouse.

When he spotted me, I had to urge my feet to move because of the solemn expression that fell on his face. He looked… disappointed. Vaguely irritated.

His stern attitude only exacerbated his domineering stature. You had to know him personally or well enough to be lucky to be on the receiving end of his charm and generosity. But there was a reason I wasn’t a lazy student, and as much passion as I may have held for my studies, much of it existed because of the discipline he raised me with.

“Lisbet,” he greeted formally, not even granting me a hug.

“What’s the meaning of this, Father?"

He heaved a sigh before taking off in the direction I’d just come from. “Let’s take a ride.”

 

But once we sat in his Mercedes, he didn’t start the car right away. Just sat there staring ahead, sulking before twisting in his seat to face me. I recognized this stance. I knew I’d be dealing with Lawyer today, not Father.

“Are you romantically involved with Ivar Lothbrok?”

My stomach plummeted, and it felt like I was having heart palpitations in the suddenness of his question. Yes – I was aware I couldn’t avoid this forever. But _fuck_ , I would’ve seriously appreciated more time to build up to a moment like this. More importantly, I wanted to be the one who brought it up, not to be the target of questioning.

There was no option but to answer truthfully. I’d be terrible at lying about it, and Father didn’t have the patience.

“Yes.”

He scoffed and immediately righted in his seat, apparently unable to even look at me anymore. He started the car and we sped out of the parking lot.

“Your mother and I were having dinner last night when I received an interesting text message from a coworker. He said he saw you at the _Norna_ , which I thought was _odd_ -” I detested when he spoke like this. It was his way of setting you up for failure, but he had to be dramatic about it. Try and see if you’d attempt to defend yourself at all. “- Because you cannot afford that type of place. Not to mention your favoritism toward piece of shit bars…”

“Odder still was when he mentioned that you appeared to be a guest of the _Lothbrok’s_.” He chuckled bitterly at the idea, only making the knot in my stomach twist even harder. “I was surprised, sure, but then I remembered you’d been one of their tutors last term. Perhaps it was just a simple thank you gesture.”

“You really don’t have to continue, Father.”

“I suggested as much, and he had the nerve to ask me if you kissed all of your students like that.”

I grit my teeth together, hands forming into fists. I glared through the window, eyes unfocused and becoming teary as our surroundings breezed by on the drive. Of course someone would’ve seen. The first time I’d publicly broadcasted being Ivar’s girlfriend and my fucking father had to find out.

“I cannot believe you have been so _foolish_ ,” he practically hissed.

“Father, if you’d just -”

“I was wary enough at the thought of you just being a tutor for one of them, but _this_ , Lisbet?”

I didn’t bother opening my mouth to retort. It was evident that he had no intent to listen to my rationalization. Because it _was_ rationalization – I wasn’t so smitten that I couldn’t see that like he might’ve thought. The Lothbrok’s were part of a criminal organization that had its hand in workings throughout the entire country and then some. It was a daily fucking chore of mine to reason with any and every potential bad thing they did.

“Have you even thought of how this might make _me_ look? The implication?” he raved on. His hands tightly bound the leather steering wheel as we careened down the road. To where – I still wasn’t sure. “The last decade of my career has practically been built by their business in one way or another. And if it’s not me – it’s someone else in the department. And now my daughter is _dating_ one of them?”

“Father -”

“ _Ivar_ of all? The goddamn prodigy of Ragnar Lothbrok - and I am certain he will surpass his reputation.”

He laughed to himself at that. Like if he didn’t laugh, he would scream instead. “I did not raise you to wind up with some _thug_ like him.”

“He’s not some _thug_.” I finally interjected. I had intended my voice to be stronger when I said it, but my father’s rampage historically weakened my resolve. There was no use having a conversation with him now.

“I assumed you’d say something like that. I hope today will change your mind.”

 

We wound up at his office downtown. My father was a reputable attorney; took high profile cases and was mostly successful in winning those cases. His office showed as such.

It was at the top floor of a firm set in the rich side of Copenhagen. If it weren’t for the stone statues and high-priced, gold plaquing above the front door, it might’ve seemed like an apartment building to someone unaware.

Inside, he had a city-view window, a gleaming, cherry wood desk, and framed awards and certificates on the wall with a decently sized personal library. It was enclosed entirely in floor to ceiling glass, though curtains were strung above them in case he required privacy. The firm was closed today, so we needed no such thing. He practically walked me behind his desk to sit me down in his chair and retreated just as quickly.

“Stay right there.” As if I would leave… Though, it was certainly tempting.

He returned with a whopping file that was so heavy, its slam resounded with a loud thud as Father dropped it on the desk in front of me. It must have been around twenty centimeters thick, and filled with all matters of paper that ranged from looking yellowed and frayed, to freshly printed.

“What’s this?”

“Our file on your so-called boyfriend.”

I glared at it as if it were something diseased before directing the heat of my anger at my father. This was downright offensive to me – whatever this tactic was. I understood his disapproval, and yes, for a moment he had me feeling some self-reproach for not having considered what his part might have played in my relationship with Ivar. But to throw this thing at me – this absolute _intrusion_ on Ivar’s life felt dirty to me.

This file clearly held things Ivar concealed with purpose, and I sought the type of trust in him that would grant this type of information to me freely. This was… _wrong_. No matter what Father’s intentions were.

“I won’t look at it.”

Father took a seat on the opposite side of his desk, where clients were normally due to sit. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, making himself comfortable.

“Is this not illegal somehow?”

“Probably,” he said dismissively. “But where my daughter is concerned, I am willing to make the exception.”

I poked the file away from me as if it were infected. My lips curled in disgust as I shook my head. “I won’t read it.”

“Lisbet -”

“This is a total invasion of privacy!” I shouted, smacking my hands on the desk.

“I do not care about Ivar Lothbrok’s privacy!” He quickly stood from his chair, startling me into silence, and leaned over the desk to shove the file back in my face. He smacked his hand on the cover. “I don’t care if I have to read it out loud – we are not leaving until you go through each and every page.”

“I will not,” I insisted through my teeth. I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed, slumping back in the chair. I didn’t care how childish it looked.

Father scoffed, but shrugged before untying the binding of the file, and messily flipped it open. Papers scattered, but had been arranged in such a way that it would be hard for them to become unorganized. Most documents were sectioned off, kept together with binder clips.

He pulled out a section at random, had the gall to smile at it while flipping through pages as he went apparently pleased with what he found.

“Even at age twelve -" he began to recite. "The patient demonstrates an insurmountable rage, partly due to his limitations from physical disability as well as the dysfunctionality of his family. There is a lack of empathy in him that may develop into sociopathic -”

“Stop it!” I shrieked. I desperately pulled the file back to me, as if that alone was some act of protection. “This is _cruel_ , Father.”

He dropped the packet in front of me and sat back down in his chair. “ _Read it_.”

I wanted to scream at him. To tell him he didn’t understand. That what I shared with Ivar was real and not something to throw files at in hopes that I would never speak to him again. If only he knew… If he knew what I’d gone through already. How attached I was to Ivar, and how now I would rather be with him than stuck in this office, being submitted to this punishment.

Instead… I pulled myself together as best I could, and started to read.

I worked from most recent to most outdated, with nothing too significant to start with besides circumstantial mazes that potentially connected Ivar to bribery in the police force and manipulation of taxation fees and paperwork.

There were paper trails that led to nowhere, uncounted money that was buried so deeply in various government projects and city funding that it seemed the justice system didn’t have a clue to what the Lothbrok’s truly got up to.

Somehow, they managed to get their hands on an old payroll report. It was a list of coded words that they believed were names of employees, with a wage breakdown for a two-week period. But there was just the single page; no crack in the code, no evidential laundering of any sort. It was clear that Ivar was in charge of paying salaries, but to who, and how, and with what money was entirely unclear.

I could actually feel my chest swell with pride. I admired Ivar's smarts, his swift maneuvering that kept fraud experts in the dark. I tried not to smile at the lack of dirt he left behind.

But things grew worse the farther back I went.

Through his teenage years, Ivar was pulled from school on suspension and secured in handcuffs more times than any normal person could fathom. From the arrest reports and mugshots (which, even in those, he remained oddly beautiful), I calculated that just about every other week, he was involved in some sort of physical altercation. Whether it was at his instigation or not was a whole other story…

Senior year alone, Ivar put a total of seven other students in the hospital for a myriad of injuries. A range from inflicted concussions, to broken arms and collarbones. There appeared to be an incident with lighter fluid and matches, and for once, I was grateful to have seen firsthand what Ivar was capable of doing to another human being. It dulled my reaction to what I read about now.

For about two hours I rifled through this report on Ivar. It made me feel mucky and scheming, getting this insight on his life that he didn’t consent to. I was at a complete loss as to how I could – or would – bring this up to him. If I had the ability to sit him down and confess it. And even though it was forcibly done, I was unsure if he’d care, if he could forgive me for such a thing. I hated myself for this betrayal. 

I at least made sure to give my father a good show. As I read on, I would pause dramatically, gasp, cover my mouth with my hand and widen my eyes all for Father’s satisfaction. He was more than happy to see me miserable over what I’d come to find out about Ivar.

But upon reaching one of the oldest reports – the one with the psychological evaluation Father so eagerly read aloud to me before – I no longer had to feign my shock.

Ivar had killed a fellow student when he was just barely eleven years old.

I wasn’t naïve… It had crossed my mind before to think on just how many lives Ivar may have taken, only having King Aelle confirmed to me. But never had I imaged that this would lead so far back to him being – being just a _kid_.

The police report barely gave any bias besides one to paint Ivar as a devious psychopath who should’ve been locked up. But laws toward jailing juveniles weren’t so straight forward in Denmark. We tended to try and nurture youths in helpful environments before locking them up, believing that most kids acted out because of extenuating circumstances, and not a selfish need to cause other people pain.

This was different. Even as a child, Ivar had plotted this. Had made sure the other kid was singled out. He’d brought the small pocketknife to primary school – and the blade being so small – had to stab him several times in order to kill him. It was why he’d been found, because even so young, he had thought up how to get rid of the evidence.

But the mess was too grand for him to clean up before a teacher found him.

Ivar went through intensive therapy after that. He was briefly institutionalized because his fits of rage were too much to contain outside of a controlled environment. It wasn’t until Aslaug filed a lawsuit that he was treated through an outpatient program, for the institution kept him strapped down to a hospital bed for so long, and in such a way that it only seemed to exacerbate not only his psyche, but his disease as well. He was exposed to such extensive abuse and prolonged pain while they kept him, and Aslaug fought for three months before having him released.

“Okay,” Father said. I’d forgotten he was there. “That’s enough.”

My face was tear soaked and I was so close to hyperventilating that he finally took pity on me.

 

 

Father’s plan had ultimately failed.

As soon as he dropped me off at my dorm, the first thing I wanted to do was call Ivar. I wanted to demand he come over and keep me company, give me some semblance of comfort that I was so anxious for. The foul taste in my mouth still lingered, and I wanted to wash it away by burying myself into Ivar’s warm body. I just wanted him to hold me.

But I refrained from calling him – a tightening knot of guilt was brewing in my chest… I suppose the plan did work, albeit to a certain extent…

My father was right; I’d been entirely selfish in my involvement with Ivar. Not once had it crossed my besotted fucking mind to consider anyone besides myself in the matter. I could vaguely remember there being a point that I’d come to terms with the inability to be open about our relationship in the ways perhaps a normal couple would be. That I couldn’t just blab about it to my friends or parents. And even still, I had glossed over the predicament completely. Refused to think it through just because the satisfaction of actually being with Ivar was more important to me.

The least I could’ve done was take Father’s career into consideration. How could I have not – as he so eloquently put it – realized the implications that would create? It had to be some sort of conflict of interest, to have a daughter who dated a Lothbrok when you devoted so much time seeking justice for a slew of their crimes. What if someone were to become suspicious about it? Tie our families together in some way to make Father look bad – or worse - crooked?

 _Fuck_.

I took a shower to clear my head – tossed my phone aside to a place I couldn’t see it; a weak attempt at detaching from my _need_ for Ivar. It was unhealthy. This whole thing was so unhealthy and I’d been persistently ignoring it.

Sofia bustled around the apartment, teetering around my nervous energy.

There was no doubt she knew something was wrong. There had to be in order for my father to have just shown up the way he did, without me even having been present to receive him. But instead of explaining the ordeal to her, I furiously paced, obsessively cleaned and reorganized our humble living space.

“Lisbet, is something wrong?” She asked quietly, looming at a safe distance. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It only made me feel worse. I’d been a terrible friend… Keeping secrets from Sofia, excluding her from my life. I rationalized that I had my reasons, but she deserved _something_. I’d even cancelled our plans the night before, couldn’t even be honest enough to explain why I had to prioritize being with Ivar instead.

I promised to give her more, no matter how difficult it was to tip-toe around certain areas.

“Is it about Ivar?”

Feeling drained, I took a break from scrubbing the kitchen sink to face my roommate. The concern was written all over her face, and I tried – and failed – multiple times to open my mouth and just get this weight off of my chest. That all the rumors about Ivar might as well be true with all the things he’d done. Frankly, from the rumors I could recall, they seemed paler by comparison.

But a knocking on the front door interrupted us. I’d been eager for a distraction, yet now I only became agitated. Sofia shrugged at me before I brushed past her, rushing to tear the door open without even bothering with a glance through the peephole… And how I regretted that…

To my utter astonishment, I faced Harald in my doorway with his brother Halfdan in tow. Both dressed in expensive, handsome suits – daunting presences in a dorm’s hallway that was usually filled with students. A sharp chill raked painfully down my spine, and my lips parted as I could feel my eyes bulge in their sockets. There was no chance to school my expression; the sudden jolt of fear left me stunned.

“Lisbet,” Harald greeted cheerfully. A warm smile plastered on his face as if we were old friends, but it did nothing to quell the unease I felt. “I was hoping you would be here.”

My blood ran cold. A mass of garbled thoughts stumbled over each other in my head as I tried to reason with the sight before me.

From behind, I could sense Sofia approach, making a quizzical sound, surely seeking the source of my reaction, and of the raspy voice that bounded inside of our apartment.

Before she could get any closer, I instantly let go of the door and whipped around, holding my hand out to stop her. She froze as soon as she saw the expression on my face.

A resounding thud pulled my attention back to Harald; his steel-toed boot had caught the door before it could close on him. I didn’t budge at all to resume my hold of it – I had zero intention of assisting this forced intrusion into my _fucking home_.

“What are you doing here?” I was too taken aback to tell, but I hoped my voice sounded strong.

Harald merely tilted his head at me in calm appraisal, then grinned again, baring his golden teeth. Hairs prickled at the back of my neck in comparison. Panic was rising; my instincts were screaming at me that nothing about this scenario was safe or sound.

“My brother and I have just come back to the city when we both realized -” He looked back at a smirking Halfdan as if he was his failproof alibi. “- It would be most appropriate to properly introduce ourselves… To someone as important as you are to a son of Ragnar Lothbrok.”

I gulped and took a defensive step back, glaring at his damned foot, wishing it hadn’t been blocking the door. We no longer lived in the type of building that had an RA a shout away down the hall as we did First year. We were just barely on campus; a significant distance from Public Safety.

“We are to be future business partners, after all.”

My heart raced at the admission. I very quickly regretted not succumbing to my need to call Ivar. Every bone in my fucking body wished I had called him. Said anything to convince him to just _get here_. Sofia and I wouldn’t have been alone if I’d simply done so when I first wanted to. And now we were stuck here, and I was more terrified than I could ever recall being in my entire life.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The song that plays when time slows down for a wooed Lisbet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAncODpky6E)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now of all times I am especially grateful for everyone's kind words and support, and ongoing inspiration to keep me motivated. Thank you all so much.

 

_They won’t hurt me. They won’t hurt me._

It was the only thought that helped settle me down; dulled the tremor in my hands. It kept me from grabbing Sofia and making a run for it. Even the skillet sticking halfway out of the dishwasher looked appealing to me.

Instead, I watched the pot brew after offering Harald and Halfdan coffee. They looked entirely out of place in our dorm. Their gold jewelry, designer suits – one purple, the other a royal blue - and shiny shoes stood far apart from the standard IKEA pieces that furnished the small eating area.

 _They won’t hurt me_. If they even tried it, Ivar would most likely attempt to kill them both and even if he failed to do so, it would start a war between territories. I didn’t give a shit how drastic it sounded – how uncharacteristic it was of me to be so reassured by the promise of violence. But this moment was bringing a newfound confidence in my importance to Ivar more than ever before. I knew this little demonstration would not be taken lightly were he to find out.

Sofia stood nervously in the doorway to her bedroom, a mixture of fright and confusion in her eyes. I couldn’t blame her – there was no way to explain the two gangsters’ presence, and I certainly wasn’t going to introduce them. I could only imagine how they would look to someone so completely unawares.

I stopped in front of her as soon as the mugs were filled.

“Go in your room and keep the door closed,” I whispered. “Don’t call anyone, and don’t come out until I say.”

At once, her cheeks turned bright red and it seemed as if she might cry. “I don’t want to leave you with these -”

“I will be fine,” I urged. “Just do as I say.”

“Your friend is free to join us if she pleases, Lisbet,” Halfdan called from the table.

“No, she isn’t,” I all but snapped back. I gave Sofia one last fleeting glance, relieved to see her finally budge from her spot and close the door in front of me.

Looking across the room, I steeled myself; sucking in a deep breath while I withdrew a part of myself that could handle this. Handle _them_. I thought of Ivar and how well skilled he was at masking everything he felt inside, blocking anyone and everyone from reading his thoughts. I’d spent several months observing his deft capability. It should have rubbed off on me some…

And I couldn’t run to him whenever I had a problem. In his own way, Ivar had chosen me… And I had to prove that I was up to his assertion.

_They won’t hurt me._

My face remained expressionless as I set down their coffee and slid into my own chair. Harald, unsurprisingly, did not bother to thank me, whereas Halfdan’s bright smile was friendly as he did. I couldn’t decide which I preferred.

“Forgive us of our intrusion,” Harald started. “It is not my intention to impose such -”

“Spare me the small talk,” I cut in. This was nothing more than an intimidation tactic; there was no sense saving airs. It was insulting to me if they thought I’d believe this to be anything else. “What is it you’re doing here?”

“You young ones have no consideration for the value of small talk and hospitalities,” he remarked dreamily. Halfdan snorted into his mug. “It establishes a basis of trust and respect. I’d like to think this an amicable discussion – wouldn’t you?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, staring evenly at him. There was no shaking my fear of these men. My hands still trembled and I had to resist twitching each time I met Harald’s eye. He was practically sneering at me; gold teeth glinting behind his lips.

But he had come into my home. Petrified one of my closest friends – who I was certain had her ear pressed to her bedroom door as we spoke. I wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ respond meekly to this type of threat.

“If that’s the case, then perhaps I should call Ivar?” I bluntly suggested. “I’m assuming he is what this is about? I’m sure he’d be happy to hear what the purpose of your visit is.”

Harald’s face only darkened, but it was Halfdan who spoke up. Clearing his throat before setting his elbows on either side of his coffee. It was plain to see they liked to play with a dynamic akin to ‘good cop, bad cop’. It was an easy wager sorting out which brother filled what role.

“That won’t be necessary, Lisbet, really,” he plastered on an apologetic smile. “We do not intend to upset you in any way. We simply wish to talk.”

“Then, please – talk.”

There was no more time wasted. “As you know, we have made a business proposal to Ivar at our last meeting.” At my nod, Halfdan continued. “We would just like to ensure that, moving forward, we are all on the same page.”

“What my brother means to say is that it is our full intention to establish partnership with the Lothbrok’s, and it would be in Ivar’s best interests to let that happen.”

Harald spoke with a double-edged sword. I ignored the cold stream that slid down my spine, and pushed forward “Then, again, I must ask why you have come to me instead of him?”

“Do you not want what’s best for him?”

“Of course, I do,” I replied dryly.

Harald raised his hands as if that was all that needed to be said. “And I am sure Ivar values your opinions. He respects you.”

The sudden urge to laugh was enough to relieve some of my nerves. What he was insinuating… If he really thought anyone was capable of _swaying_ Ivar, myself included, then they truly had no clue as to who they were dealing with. But I would not be so forthcoming as to tell them that.

“I think you overestimate my role here, Harald,” I said instead. “I’m uninvolved in the business. I have little standing where Ivar’s decisions are made.”

“Then perhaps you haven’t considered what may come to be your _own_ benefits,” Halfdan argued. My head turned slowly to face him, brow cocked. “Unless you mean to tell us you have no ambition of your own?” A wry grin grew on his face. “That you are with Ivar for his _charming_ personality?”

Harald set his elbows on the table, leaning toward me as if sharing a secret. “A partnership will only grant him _more_ power. And in turn – _you_ will have more power.”

I scowled but didn’t make a point to discourage theirs. They thought me so petty with shallow intentions. In a relationship with Ivar just for his money and influence. Insulting, sure… But it might come to prove advantageous down the road if they continued to believe that. I doubt they’d be so open with me if otherwise.

“It will be a win for all of us, Lisbet,” Harald concluded.

And yet Ivar didn’t think so. He’d made a good point on being opposed to partaking in the drug trade, and I trusted his judgement. These two men on the other hand…

“There’s to be a meeting in a month’s time. One my brother and I will attend. And I am very much hoping to meet Ivar Lothbrok in a much more amenable state.”

I was half tempted to question ‘or what?’ but thought better of it. It would’ve been rhetorical, in any case. Whether they said it out loud or not, they meant to convey the message that things would become ‘difficult’ for Ivar if he was to decline them again.

I crossed my arms over my chest in contemplation, my gut twisting uncomfortably. They were determined to drive me in a corner, and where a moment ago I had wished Ivar was here, now… I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted him to know about this little house call…

“I may also mention,” Harald added, much to my displeasure. “It won’t be long before the Board decides on its next President.” My stomach dropped. “You know as well as I do that Lagertha doesn’t stand a chance in gaining its control. But in the meantime,” he gave his brother a sparing glance. “There are things I can do to help keep her out of the way.”                            

 

As soon as the door closed behind them, a huge breath rushed from my lungs. After locking the deadbolt, I set both hands on it, trying to steady myself.

The relief was an almost orgasmic sensation – but very quickly, everything else came rushing back. The fear, the exhaustion. The guilt and doubt. It was too much. As much as I tried to will them away, the tears wouldn’t stop coming.

Desperately, I still yearned for Ivar and yet there was no way I could simply reach him now. I had to pull myself together, regroup. Think on what the fuck I would do about all I’d learned.

 

From the collective stress over the weekend’s turmoil, it was hard to even fathom that I had to revert back into a student mindset on Monday morning. I could barely focus as I dressed into my boring uniform, gathered my schoolbooks, and flung my backpack over my soldier. It all seemed too surreal.

Sofia was still eating breakfast when I left – another menial thing that just seemed so implausible in all I’d been through in a matter of only a few days. So much was happening. So quickly – and yet, it all had such an impact it truly felt like months.

She at least showed a few shades brighter than she had late last night. We spent a long time talking once Harald and Haldfan left and I pulled myself together… It must’ve been awful for her to not have a single clue as to what I’d been getting mixed up in – to still leave what she’d always heard about the Lothbrok’s as rumors. I had to be more careful; make assurances that she would never be involved in their quarrels. And that had to start with some supply of information.

Keeping it as vague as humanly possible, going forward, according to Sofia, Ivar’s parents had in fact been in the Mob. But I didn’t divulge Ivar’s own position being a Boss. With some tip-toeing around the facts, all she knew was that he was in the running for President of the Danish Export Trading Company, and that given all of the criminal connections, there was an ongoing race for dominance.

It was enough to maybe increase her worry, but she was comforted and more understanding now that she had somewhat of an idea of what was at stake. And it was definitely enough to help explain the appearance of Harald and Halfdan…

 

During my one class with Ivar, I was in a total fog, sparing most of my attention to the profile of his head. As scared as I was, seeing him now, my thoughts couldn’t keep from drifting back to all I’d learned of him. And how I could possibly tell him I’d discovered it.

He appeared different to me now, dressed in uniform, spotless and wrinkle free as per usual. He was attentive to the class, eyes following the Professor bouncing back and forth in front of the blackboard. Taking notes, fingers punching into his calculator. At first, he was just the intimidating student I tutored, then the full-time Mob Boss slash part-time boyfriend. Now, even as I could still see those things, I also saw a child abused. Torn from his family. Institutionalized. I couldn’t imagine the terror it put Aslaug through, and more so the trauma Ivar endured. I wanted to comfort him as strongly as I needed him to comfort me.

And how _could_ I tell him? How do you go about telling someone you’ve learned the secrets of their deepest darkest past? Things of such a personal nature, that I wouldn’t blame him for being angry with me for finding them out in the first place, which, of course would be his reaction. There was no denying.

It put enough on my plate without even beginning to think on how to address Harald and Halfdan’s visit last night. Another thing I couldn’t be sure if telling Ivar was the right thing to do or not.

It was clear they were looking for a reaction from Ivar – one strong enough that he’d feel it would force his hand, just as Lagertha did. Establish a partnership, or begin a feud. The latter, I was certain Ivar would be opposed to with Lagertha and Bjorn still in the picture. So, they were hoping for a partnership, and I wanted no part in helping them achieve that goal. I did not want them working with Ivar – with any of the Lothbrok’s. I wanted Ivar safe, and it was obvious there was more at play with Harald’s scheme than an equitable partnership.

Besides, they were bound to approach him with their plans regardless of my involvement. They’d done so already.

No. I wouldn’t tell Ivar. Not until it became necessary.

Only at that small ounce of clarity did I notice Ivar had turned in his seat to look back at me. A slight gasp shook between my lips before I realized he hadn’t been the only one – each student surrounding my seat had also turned to leer.

“Lisbet?”

 _Shit_. “Sorry, Professor,” I proclaimed, clearing my throat. “Miles away.”

Our Professor shook his head disapprovingly and tapped his eraser against the blackboard. It’d been a long enough moment of me not paying attention, that the equation he gestured to might as well have been in a different language.

“Seemed as such,” he replied. “Refer to the worksheet and find the error for this, if you’d be so kind.”

 

“What was that about?” Ivar asked after class. Though we normally went separate ways, I lingered to be with him, heart racing at the thought of being close to him. I had to take solace in him, even if it was only just for a moment.

“What?”

He did a double-take in my direction, brows knit together, my response having apparently furthered his frustration. We moved beside the classroom door, Ivar taking a step closer to me to offer some semblance of privacy between him and the wall at my back. We stood nose to chest; he towered over me and there was no stopping myself from curling my hands over either side of his waist.

If it bothered him, he made no move to protest, and I was grateful for it. Just feeling his warmth, what muscle I could make out beneath his blazer and shirt, already pulled a significant weight off of my shoulders. My head tilted back and softly hit the wall behind me just from the swoon over his presence.

“’ _Miles away_ ’?” He asked sardonically, and with a higher pitch to his voice. “That is unlike you. You are distracted.”

I was distracted _now_ ; taking note that Ivar was allowing me to tug him slightly closer until my hands were buried beneath his backpack. I suddenly wanted to lose myself in him; I stared up at his beautiful face, into his eyes that were so bright and penetrating.

“Your father…” he went on. “What happened yesterday? I did not hear from you.”

And like that, the fantasy was gone. I slumped, slackening my hold around him.

“He found out about us,” I told him.

I never bothered contemplating how Ivar might react to that – being found out. It went without saying that I hadn’t gone to my parents to confess of our relationship. But an unexpected smirk grew on his face as his jaw rolled from side to side. He appeared slightly smug.

“I take it he does not approve?”

I managed to grin. “ _Actually_ , he invited you over for dinner.”

“I am sure he did,” he smiled back. “I was _so_ hoping he would be fond of me.”

He glanced around us as students continued to mill past. His smile faded into a slight grimace while he shifted on his crutches, readjusting his grip on them before hunching lower toward me. “Is that all, Lisbet?” He asked quietly. “Are you all right? Does it upset you… That he does not approve?”

It was so rare of Ivar to seem so sincere, I could hardly meet his eye. But I knew if I even attempted to weave my way around the incident with my father, I’d be brainlessly vomiting words, unable to stop. I couldn’t have that. Not yet.

“Can we study at home today?” I couldn’t help but to change the subject. And I wouldn’t be content until I was safe and alone with him, either.

Ivar frowned; he could read me too well. He knew something more was weighing on my mind even if I didn’t say it. But he could at least sense how needy I was. I watched his face proceed to soften while he sized me up with his gaze.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I’m… I will be here for you.” My heart was soaring in an instant; I was already lifting myself to the tips of my toes, so happy, I could kiss him when he continued. “You’ll spend the night with me.”

I gaped at him, even more surprised. Ivar shook his head. “Our weekend did not suffice.”

“You won’t be working?”

“Payroll… Nothing I cannot accomplish in your company.” Payroll. Another reminder of what I was keeping from him. He misread my expression and pouted, evidently becoming uneasy as if I might suddenly refuse. It made me feel guilty, having racked up so many secrets in such little time. When had it become my turn to do that? “I will pick you up at the end of the day?" 

“Yes.”

And before he could straighten, I quickly grasped the front of his blazer, holding him still so I could reach even taller and press my lips to his.

My eyes rolled at the feel of their softness. I could sense his inner battle; the part that wanted to stop me so we could move on to our next class, and the part that thankfully won out. Kissed me back right there in the hallway for all to see. I sighed upon feeling him relax over me, enough that I could wrap my arms around him again and tilt my head so that our lips parted, and the tips of our tongues met coyly, teasing just the slightest.

I was pressed tightly against the wall as he teetered to free one hand, clutch me to him by the back of my neck. And I took on some of his weight with ease, welcoming his body with more fervor than we had the opportunity to sate.

“Get a room, Lothbrok,” someone called walking by, followed by a series of girls giggling.

Ivar set his forehead on mine when he pulled away with a sigh. “You should get to class, Lis’.”

“I know,” I murmured. For once, I didn’t care about onlookers, but I wasn’t ready to leave him either. It was forever daunting how being in his presence made me forget all else, even now. I felt traumatized up until the moment I could get my hands on him. Now I was soothed, wishing only for him to take me and do what he wished to me. Let him remove all of my self-control until there was nothing else for me to think of.

There was gravity to this effect, I knew. But in all that was happening around me, it was the only consolation I had.

 

 

For a while, things seemed to have settled down. I hadn’t heard from my father, though Mother was keeping in touch just as often as she usually did. She knew about Ivar, of course Father had told her. But she wasn’t as aggressive with judgement as he had been. Our phone conversations stuck to the rule of don’t ask, don’t tell. Whereas, with Sofia, we had at least reached a level of understanding so I could be more opened with her than I had ever been before.

There was no sight of Harald or Halfdan, either, though I didn’t exactly go prying about it. I was too busy with school to spend stress on things that were out of my hands. With autumn break approaching, it meant an oncoming bout of exams, so most of my free time was spent cramming in the library or labs. Even when I was with Ivar, our time together was mostly spent sat in silence, our faces buried in our laptops and textbooks.

Once again, we had settled into a routine much like we did when I first began studying with him. Every day, we met to complete our assignments – sessions growing longer and longer the closer we neared our exam week. The difference now was that on weekends we hardly ever left his bed, feeding our lust for each other with an urgency that refused to waver.

Things with him were… _intense_. I’d never been with anyone like Ivar. I had always found him to be an alluring enigma, and now, the closer we became, the more I wondered how in the hell I’d ever been with anyone else. Few things in my life had ever been so satisfying as when I could simply climb into bed with him. Feel his hands on me. Hear the sounds of his pleasure, or just the soft lull of his voice in the middle of the night before we fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. I found myself never wanting it to end.

I could only assume he was taking it one step farther when he decided to let me actually _see_ the Company’s headquarters.

With the Board meeting approaching, Ivar was almost combusting with static energy, anxious to see the result of his future. On a day filled with hours upon hours of work, he had Cris escort us down through the city, in the direction of Floki’s docks.

Nestled amid the in-between of center city and industrial warehousing, sat a massive series of three-story masonry buildings that held the span of five blocks worth of property. The size alone had me staring awestruck through the backseat window.

The sun was set, and there was hardly a worker in sight, but no matter what hour of the day, Ivar always had access.

Cris waited in the lobby while I rode with Ivar in the elevator to the upmost level in the main building – and that required an additional code to permit entry.

The doors slid open to a spacious, mostly vacant floor. Boxes were strewn about in no particular order, looking like a house did when one was moving out. There was a single conference table that, upon inspection, seated thirty people. Enormous windows were on either side of the floor which, as I walked around, was really more of a grand hall. One view shown the beautiful lit up city of Copenhagen, where the other displayed the calm, dark blue waters of the canals.

Ivar moved to lean against the edge of the sole desk in the room. A rich, gleaming oak. He propped his crutches beside him, and simply watched me drink it all in.

I bit my lip, feeling impressed. And Ivar met my smile with a sort of smug smirk. I pondered at it and he raised his brows expectantly.

It hit me, then. Why it was so odd that there were no offices up here. That there was an entire floor of a building with so little in it. My smile vanished from my face – to be replaced with my unhinged jaw.

“Is – is this…?”

Ivar tilted his forehead at me, amused to watch me put it together.

“All of this is _yours_ , isn’t it?”

Ivar sucked in a bated breath, licking his lips. “As long as the Board chooses in my favor – yes, this is all mine.” Again, his anxiety radiated from him in waves, but it was met with a sort of proud look about him and he gave a single nod, reassuming his confidence. “As it was my mother’s. And my father’s before her.”

With a loud squeal, I practically skipped toward him, tossed my arms over his shoulders and mashed my lips onto his. Smooched him again and again with exaggerated smacking noises, only to melt against him.

He gripped onto my hips, and though I knew how much he squirmed at this type of obnoxious affection, I could still feel him grinning against my mouth.

“You like that, huh?” he asked when we finally separated. He kept our faces close; allowed his hands to roam eagerly over my sides. I nodded, gripping onto him, my own smile turning sultry. “You like seeing me in charge?” His hands slid over my ass, and he squeezed tightly, pulling me against him to grind me into his front.

I groaned in affirmation. It was one thing to have heard everyone talking about this for months, but to actually see the physical manifestation… His prowess had never been more arousing. I think I got off on his power almost as much as he did.

He growled, leaning over to nuzzle his mouth against my neck, and I held onto him even harder. “Soon, I will be in charge of everything in this place, Lisbet.”

It was easy to forget that there was trouble lingering somewhere in the distance during moments like these. Moments where our relationship seemed fun and exciting – a change I was grateful for after enduring what might’ve been the lowest low of our time together. Being with him here in his future office, the two of us secluded from the rest of the world, it reminded me of why this was all worth it.

 

 

Ivar’s stress levels hadn’t lessened when it came time for the Mob meeting. Where he was already snappy, he was downright instigative. If you said one wrong thing to him, you wouldn’t hear the end of it until he was done having a tantrum. It was hard to deal with, having my own issues to cope with, worse now at the thought of having to see Harald and his brother once more. Luckily, he kept to directing his anger out on his brothers instead of me. For the most part, anyway…

“What’s his problem this time?” Ubbe asked as I took a seat next to him. We were in the same conference room of the yacht club I’d been brought to for the last meeting. It was astounding how much had changed for me since then.

More people greeted me this time around. I’d had to make a point of introducing myself to other members over the past couple of weeks; to be amicable and friendly. And most of them sought interaction with me anyway, strictly because of the fact that I was Ivar’s girlfriend. At least now I felt more comfortable in a sea of familiar faces.

“I walked in on him taking shower this morning,” I told him. Ubbe’s brows furrowed in confusion, and I leaned close to him to elaborate. “Apparently it’s been some time since anyone’s seen him use a shower chair?”

Ubbe hissed abruptly, realizing what I meant. Ivar had screamed at me for several minutes after, when I’d been half-asleep, wanting to use the toilet. He didn’t quiet down until I climbed in the shower with him. However, that _and_ allowing him to dress me for the evening didn’t seem to lighten his mood. I sat in a constricting blue dress that forced my legs together while cutting off just above the knees – and he was _still_ moping.

“I cannot imagine…” he replied. Then both of our gazes fell upon Harald and Halfdan crossing the room to occupy their seats on the other end of the table. There was a sterner air about them tonight. Where I’d seen them interacting socially at the last meeting, now they were brewing in silence. Business evidently fresh on the mind.

Ubbe glanced at me to find my eyes had been trained on the same spot. “Perhaps you should have chosen a better day to walk in on my brother in the shower.”

And he did have a point. Ivar had no semblance of patience as he addressed the room shortly after sitting down next to me. Without greeting, he practically barked at the people around us to cut the chit-chat and get down to the important work. It had me worried about his reaction to being approached by Harald’s proposal again. Harald had said he intended on finding him agreeable – that was the last thing Ivar would be right now.

“Before we conclude, Ivar, there is one more thing I was hoping to discuss.”

“Ah, yes,” Ivar replied dryly. “Your want of drug trafficking in my territory.”

There was a pregnant pause at his abrasion, his bluntness causing Harald to wager carefully on a way to proceed. His eyes squinted from across the room, gauging Ivar, no doubt contemplating how to work around his evident displeasure while still being able to get what he wanted.

“Precisely. Have you thought more on it?”

I had to resist rolling my eyes at his attempt to seem like he actually cared for Ivar’s wants.

But it was Ubbe who spoke up this time. “If I remember correctly, Harald, it was _you_ who was instructed to bring a realistic plan to the table. And I’m _certain_ I said only then would we come to an arrangement. On our own terms, you understand.”

Harald’s laughter rasped its way around, bound to be making the room tense with discomfort, myself included.

“The problem with that, boys, is that I require some guarantees. I have no problem with respecting your establishment, but I, too, have my own to worry about.”

“And once more, I must ask, if business was so thriving for you on your own terf, why must you encroach on ours?” Ivar demanded harshly. I could tell by his tone that he’d have to start getting a grip on his temper soon.

“Calm down, Ivar,” Ubbe even  whispered, low enough for only us to hear.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to swat us down,” Harald said. His face turned serious, more menacing as he leaned forward to set his fist on the table.

“As we all know, the deliberation for the future of Danish Export is soon upon us. Meaning the decision on whether or not to elect you President of the Company.”

If the quiet seemed stifled before, now it was downright deafening. Ivar sat unmoving, but every eye in the room turned to him with nervous apprehension. Harald never failed to speak in veiled threats, and it was no different this time. Flaunting the debate of Ivar’s Presidency in front of the Mob was a deliberate undercut of his influence among his people.

“Our ports in Norway have long been allies of your ports here. An alliance, the value of which, even your father recognized.” Another low blow. I was surprised Ivar hadn’t jumped to interrupt yet. I turned to appraise him; still silent he was, but his fingers were clenched into fists and there was the slightest of pink tinged on his cheeks.

“All we are asking is that you respect a partnership just as he once did. And in return, we will remain faithful, and assist in ensuring your future as President.”

“For the sake of playing Devil’s Advocate here,” Ubbe interjected. “And what _if_ the Board opts not to elect Ivar? What then? Your benefit to us will be…?”

It was Halfdan’s turn to pipe his two scents in. “Regardless of what they do, we will still make a deal of our profits. Cut you in – let’s say… ten percent?”

Ivar barked with laughter before sitting up and slamming his hands on the countertop. “You two have got some fucking balls, huh?” he shouted. “You come here as a guest under our roof, on _my_ territory, question my authority and offer us _ten percent_?”

“Ivar -” Harald started.

“- You must admit, that is a little insulting,” Hvitserk chimed in.

Harald’s mouth bobbed opened and closed, calculating his next words. He seemed to realize they’d pushed too hard and fast. Spoken too boldly. His lips pressed into a thin line, then I cringed as he dared to glare at _me_.

Ivar noticed. Of course he fucking noticed. His head whipped around with a glare, eyes narrowed in my direction. I gave a blank expression in return, not wanting to exacerbate his anger. Eventually, he heaved a sigh, nostrils flaring, and leaned back in his seat. He was _seething_.

“The deal can absolutely be negotiated,” Harald backtracked. “We are just - having a conversation.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that. Wouldn’t be the last, I was sure of it.

“Then for the sake of conversation, if you are so invested in this then give us the proposal,” Ubbe said, shooting Ivar a look to keep him quiet. Turning back to face Harald, Ubbe forced an amicable smile. “Things have been tense; you will excuse us. But give us the footwork, numbers, connections… And my brothers and I will make a decision. In private.”

Harald shook his head. “I said we required guarantees -”

“And _I_ said I will take your information and discuss it with my brothers,” Ubbe retorted even firmer. It was the first time I’d heard him take such a tone. “Ivar and Hvitserk are right. You are under our roof. On our territory. We will not endure beggars and proceed to be insulted. Accept our rules, or forget any deals.”

It was Harald’s turn to be as irate as Ivar. Halfdan almost as much. But there was no other option, and though he loved the sound of his own voice and the illusion of control, even he saw that.

For the rest of the meeting they deliberated over port staff and trade routes for Harald’s ships. Ubbe took charge of the meeting - running questions and pondering aloud about the dynamics of the potential deal – while the rest of the brothers listened intently. Ivar didn’t say another word.

Throughout the conversation, I couldn’t help but notice Harald repeatedly seek me out, eyeing me as if I was his personal betrayer. The man had no fucking subtlety. I’d kept the secret long enough, but there was no doubt that I’d soon be telling Ivar what had happened between the three of us. And perhaps that would do worse for Harald than he’d initially intended.

“We shall take a vote,” Ubbe announced at the end of it. Though, it was plain to see he wasn’t pleased. “All in favor?”

With a quick count, I noted little over half of the room who had their hands raised. I was surprised to see Hvitserk hadn’t joined, as he’d previously voiced his support of the idea. More shockingly, was that at the end of our group, Sigurd sat stiffly, hand held high in the air.

Ubbe sulked before offering a single nod. “Then, we will make a decision.”

 

It was raining as Cris brought the car around to pick us up. Ivar was still fuming as we climbed inside and slammed the doors shut.

“This is the _last_ thing I need with Lagertha and her _useless_ son still around,” he raved as we drove off. “And the Board meeting is two weeks away! I don’t care who Harald thinks he is - I will _not_ have him thinking he can undermine me.”

I nodded, but didn’t open my mouth to speak just yet. I wanted him to cool off for a second before I cleared the air. I stared out through the window as we sped down a long, narrow stretch of road. It was completely dark outside. Worsened by the weather. The rain whipped by, not nearly loud enough to overpower Ivar’s rampage.

Then suddenly he turned on me, glaring accusingly.

“And why was he looking at you like that? As if he could not keep his eyes off of you.”

I sighed, eventually pulling my attention from the window to meet his eye. Even with no light save for the dashboard of the car, his anger was palpable. Each sharp angle of his face was contorted in ire, menacing enough that I found myself almost reluctant to tell him the truth.

“Harald and Halfdan paid me a visit,” I finally said. Ivar’s expression lightened merely from his surprise. “They showed up at my dorm -”

“What do you mean they _showed up at your dorm_?” He shouted, cutting me off. “When was this?”

“Around a month ago,” I confessed, regrettably adding – “That day my Father did the same to confront me about you.”

The silence of his pause was so thick that I almost preferred his ranting.

“I _knew_ you were lying to me,” he hissed, turning away from me in frustration. He scoffed loudly, tossing his hand in the air before propping his fist under his chin, leaning on the door. “Tell me everything that happened.”

I did, not sparing a single detail, the event was still so vivid in my mind. Ivar, meanwhile, had resigned himself from me, his back rigid as he refused to look at me. I was thankful then to be used to his standoffish attitude – how _silly_ it would be for him to ask after my wellbeing!

“ _Why_ would you keep this from me?” He asked when I finished.

“Because I knew they were intending to goad you!” I snapped, exasperated. “I knew that no matter what I did, they would try to coerce you either way. I didn’t want you to react – to think you had to do something rash in response.”

He turned to sneer at me, then. “ _Oh_ , I am _very_ much wanting to do something rash right now.”

I said nothing, unsure if he meant the remark to be directed at me or them.

“This explains a lot, Lisbet,” he said dryly. Practically mumbling bitterly to himself. “They expected _you_ to do their dirty work. Thought I would be _wooed_ to bend the knee.” He shifted to pull a pack of cigarettes from his pants, angrily smacking it against the palm of his hand before pausing again. Used the pack to gesture at me. “Do you really think me so malleable? That I would be so easily manipulated?”

“No!” I protested; the very insinuation was affronting. “I just – I don’t want them – I want you _safe_ from them. I don’t trust them.”

Ivar didn’t seem to care for the sentiment. He leaned closer to me, upper lip curled in a snarl. “Do not ever keep something like this from me again, Lisbet. Do you understand?” His gaze held steady on my face even as I backed down, shying away from him. “There are enough people scheming and keeping secrets – I _cannot_ have you among them.”

Shame bubbled through me, fretting more on what else I was keeping from him more than this mishap.

A brief period of still passed before he spoke again. At a much lower volume this time.

“Did they… Did they try to harm you in any way?”

I wanted to laugh at his sudden relapse and apparent worry of me. I opened my mouth to inform him I was _untainted_ – when a loud _pop_ jolted us from outside of the car, startling us both.

Cris swerved immediately, tires screeching on the wet pavement. The rear end of the car briefly fishtailed until he pulled over to the side of the road.

“What the hell was that?” I asked, searching blindly through the windows for any sign of debris or roadkill.

Ivar said nothing. Instead, he and Cris shared a look in the rearview mirror. Without a word between them, Cris shifted the car in park and got out.

It was still so dark outside, I could hardly see him walking beside the car to check on the tire. I couldn’t help but feel worried. Sitting in the middle of this country road, with barely a light in sight.

Cris tapped on Ivar’s window within the next minute. Ivar rolled it down, and Cris tilted his head in slightly, still keeping a constant eye on our surroundings.

“Shot out,” he reported simply. He gestured toward the woods beside him. “Shall I take a look?”

Ivar nodded. “Yes. But don’t be reckless.”

Cris took off into the distance with a speedy pace. He was out of sight before Ivar had his window rolled back up. Another heaved sigh, and there was a rustling as he unbuttoned and removed his jacket. My stomach dropped. He’d been wearing a holster bound tightly around his left shoulder. A strap stretched snugly across his blouse, constricting a handgun against his ribcage. A smaller compartment was beside it, where I noticed the hilt of his knife.

“What the _fuck_ is going on?” I whispered.

“I am not sure,” he admitted. He withdrew the gun, brandished it above his lap, then checked the chamber to make sure it was loaded. Satisfied, he set it back in its carrier but retrieved the butterfly knife.  His eyes raised to meet mine; he looked at me like he did on that night he took me to the warehouse; detached. Something bad was happening. “ _Relax_.”

I stuttered to respond, and Ivar rose his free hand to my face. Gently stroked my cheek. “ _Stay calm_ … I will protect you.”

No sooner had I felt an ounce of reassurance than something loudly crashed against his window. The glass _exploded_ behind him from blunt force, shards scattering everywhere. I shrieked as a gloved hand reached inside and took hold of the door handle.

Ivar whipped around, knife in fist, and grunted as he drove it into the assailant’s arm. The shout that followed didn’t come from Ivar – proceeded to grow louder and at a higher pitch as Ivar sliced his way down the length of his forearm. He twisted the blade at an awkward angle – used it like a fishhook and practically pulled him inside of the car and caught him by the throat.

Only then did Ivar force the door open under the weight of the attacker’s body – I screamed as my own window shattered with a _clang_.

I was not as fast as Ivar. I hadn’t even turned around by the time the door was opened and I felt a hand grab my leg. Time seemed to slow down, there was a dull buzzing in my ear with Ivar’s voice shouting vaguely in the background. I threw myself back across the seat, legs flailing with imprecise kicks at anything I could reach of the person attempting to drag me out.

There was another grip around my bicep – Ivar I _hoped_ – and in a matter of seconds I was the subject of a tug of war.

A masked man climbed into the backseat after me. I threw out a punch with my fist but was quickly restrained as he wrapped himself around my waist. The rooftop light shone above him, pouring a silhouette over him so I could catch the glint of Ivar’s blade before it sunk into the side of his face.

We both froze in surprise, but Ivar’s movements persisted rapidly as he pulled the knife out and drove it back in; over and over in quick succession through various places of his skull until he finally collapsed on top of me with a _squelch_.

Like a warm sponge, blood seeped into my dress while I struggled to push the dead weight back out through the door. I panicked, his arms still tangled around me. He was so heavy, I started to slide from the car with him.

“Ivar – _Ivar_ -” I sputtered. But his hold slipped on my sleeve and I toppled outside. Shards of glass slit sharply into my thighs and I cried out as my knees connected painfully hard with the pavement. Skin gnashed with concrete. _Fuck_.

I tried to stand up; slipped over the tangled limbs and wet ground at the _pop_ of two gunshots.

“Lisbet!” Ivar called from the other side of the car. Goosebumps rose on my skin

“I’m f-fine,” I shouted back. I kicked off my heels and did a better job of rising this time, staggering as I rushed around the trunk of the car. I made it to the other side in time to witness Ivar fending off another faceless person. There was a limp body at their feet; Ivar nearly tripped over it as he was dragged outside.

Ivar blocked two punches with his bicep. Slammed a swift uppercut into the man’s nose with an audible crunch. Ivar wound his arm around the back of his head, keeping them close enough so he could stay standing. And before he could recover, Ivar’s knife cut through the air as he stabbed him directly through the sternum. There was a strangled scream when Ivar stabbed him again, then used both holds on him to spin them around and pin him back against the car.

Ivar spotted me, did a double-take, mouth opened in warning – then all oxygen was socked out of my lungs as I was knocked from behind. I was so shocked, I couldn’t even tell how I’d been hit. Landed face-down on the ground. I was too dizzy to move, could vaguely feel myself somehow grappling to get my hands on the ground and push up -

A tight grip seized me by the hair, yanked sharply upwards so I could see Ivar again. The man he fought with still struggled, but Ivar was hesitating… Must’ve seen through the red taillight that there was a gun pointed at my head. I could feel its cool barrel at my temple.

Ivar bared his teeth in a snarl. Clearly at odds with himself. I kept my mouth shut once our eyes met, forcing my shaking body to still. I don’t believe I’d ever trusted him more.

With another twist of his knife, his assailant’s scream rang loudly in my ears as Ivar forced it deeper inside. Ivar moved faster than I’d ever seen him – holding on steady to the hilt with his left hand, he let go with his right, drew his pistol across his chest and fired.

Hot liquid splattered onto the side of my head as if a balloon had popped. Simultaneous with the body going limp on top of me. My palms scraped on the road as I bared his weight.

Ivar gave one last wary look around, made sure we wouldn’t be ambushed by anyone else before slitting his new crutch’s throat. They both dropped to the ground, Ivar landing on all fours above him with a wince.

It was finally quiet save for the sound of soft rain, heavy breathing and my own heartbeat pounding in my head. The only way I managed to get the corpse off of me was by rolling onto my back beneath him and shoving him off with both arms and legs.

“Lisbet,” Ivar croaked.

I righted myself, turning over at the sound of his voice. I looked up to see Ivar crawling toward me – gun holstered - and I eagerly did the same, suddenly brimming with a surge of inexplicable emotion. It came to the forefront as his hands finally reached mine, and he dragged me the rest of the way. Pulled me to his chest in a protective embrace. He held me defensively, shielding me between his body and the ground.

“I don’t think – there is anyone else,” he said, gulping for air. Still keeping a lookout. I was beyond caring at that point. Might’ve been incoherent to all else around us. All I wanted was to be crushed by Ivar’s strength. Never leave the binding of his arms. Never stop feeling his voice reverberate against my cheek.

 

We didn’t move, even when Cris called. Turned out he’d been across the fir tree median where two vehicles were parked atop an inclined lot. One had five passengers, all but one of which were dead. The last would be kept alive for questioning. The other had four passengers who were also dead, corpses littered around Ivar and I.

Hvitserk and Ubbe peeled down the road shortly after we got word from Cris – also having received his call. Hvitserk was out of the SUV before Ubbe had even set it in park, pistol at the ready as he surveyed the area.

And perched on the trunk of that goddamn car, I stayed clung to Ivar as he gave a rundown of events.

“What the fuck?” Hvitserk exclaimed with more energy than the rest of us combined. “ _Who_?”

Ivar scoffed. “I think it is safe to assume Harald was displeased with how we left things off.”

“He’s a fucking imbecile if he really attempted this,” Ubbe retorted. He ran his hands through his blonde hair. We were all getting soaked now. “To start a feud before we make a deal?”

I closed my eyes as Ivar hummed. “Yes, well… I have my own thoughts about that. But we must get moving. We cannot sit here all – where the fuck is Sigurd?”

“He drove alone tonight,” Hvitserk said. “Left before all of us, I think.”

Even without seeing them, I could sense the looks they exchanged with each other. But that thought would be pushed till later, too.

“Ubbe, take Lisbet home with you. I don’t want either of you out here if we’re spotted.”

I stiffened immediately, shaking my head the slightest, mumbling a hushed ‘no’ against Ivar’s throat.

There was a frigid difference as Ivar loosened his hold on me. At once, my shivering intensified.

“You have to go, Lisbet,” he pressed, running his hands over my hair, all the while haphazardly muttering at Hvitserk to fetch my shoes. “We are not finished here. There is much to do.”

I forced myself to back away enough to look up at him, not caring how much of a mess I must’ve looked in front of the brothers; Ivar included. I clutched onto his bloodied shirt, shaking my head as hot tears fell from my eyes. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Ubbe will take care of you,” he promised, eyes boring into mine. Then at the look on my face added – “I will be all right. Better if I know you are safe.”

Ubbe’s hand was gentle around my wrist; a silent prod to get me moving. Ivar kissed my forehead, looking at me with such an odd expression. Something so impossibly nurturing given the circumstances.

Another tug, and I let Ubbe lead me away. Not for a second taking my eyes off of Ivar until Ubbe had gotten us far enough down the road, that I could no longer see him.

 

The Estate was eerily quiet when we arrived. I’d managed to stop crying, but I was wet, cold and shivering. Sniveling with each breath.

Ubbe watched me warily as I followed him into the kitchen. As if I might snap at any moment. Burst into hysterics again. I held myself in my arms, watching him reach for a bottle of vodka in the cabinet.

“I think this will help us both,” he muttered, grabbing two shooter glasses to join the bottle. He poured a drink each, spilling some over the edges of the glass in all of his excitement. Taking them in hand, he turned to offer me one before pausing. “Unless… Perhaps you should get cleaned up?”

I finally looked down at myself, gulping hard at the streaks of blood that stained darkly against the light blue of my dress. I had some scratches across my legs from the glass, and my hands and knees were scraped up from the pavement.

“One now,” I said. Not wanting to focus on any of it. “More after.”

Ubbe was evidently more accustomed to these ordeals. He seemed loads calmer already. With a free hand, he took hold of mine, helping to secure the drink in my shaky one so I wouldn’t drop it.

Once I proved I wouldn’t, he reached back for his own, clinked ours together, and we both tilted our heads back to take down the bitter liquid in one gulp. I was never particularly fond of vodka, and perhaps it was the state I was in, but it felt like water going down.

“Will you be…?” Ubbe paused. One arm was outstretched toward me, as if he meant to offer his help. He cleared his throat instead. “Borrow some of Ivar’s clothes.” He shook his head, evidently feeling awkward about what he was saying. “Shout if you need anything… And throw that dress out. We will get rid of it in the morning.”

 

In Ivar’s bathroom, I searched for a pair of tweezers, and plucked out what tiny bits of glass from my legs I could find while I waited for the shower to become scalding. I couldn’t even bear to fathom what little remnants were left in my hair, so I refused to look at my reflection. Tossed everything I wore into the small wastebasket and climbed into the hot water.

It became easier to relax as I washed myself. I had no preparation for spending the night tonight. We had class the next day. So, it was Ivar’s soap I washed with, his shampoo and conditioner I wrung thoroughly through my hair. Without him here, the very scent was the only semblance of comfort I had.

I released a heavy sigh, watching the red-tinged water stream for the drain.

The panic was finally fading. A tiredness in my limbs was taking over. And all I thought about was how happy I was that Ivar was okay. It was fucking stupid – I wanted to smack myself knowing how I, too, had been in danger. And that I underestimated the actions of others – that this would terrify me when it could’ve been worse.

I dressed in Ivar’s clothes; a T-shirt and thin, cotton pajama pants, still welcoming the smell of him. And Ubbe sat with me in the kitchen late into the night, refilling my glass at his leisure until I was adrift with a strong enough buzz that could put me to sleep as soon as my head hit Ivar’s pillow.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can friggin see, I already changed the chapter count on this, so clearly there are still pieces to be moved around. Hope ya'll enjoy. 
> 
> Including additional warnings here: Light symptoms of post traumatic stress; NSFW; Dom/Sub dynamics: Light bondage, spanking, slapping, spitting.

 

 

It felt like I’d merely blinked when I woke up some short time later to the feel of the bed shifting. My head was pounding. I could still hear the rain falling outside, and the sun hadn’t yet risen. Through bleary eyes, I managed to look at the clock and see that it was after five in the morning.

“Ivar?” I voiced weakly.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he responded, voice rough. Sounding like he was as exhausted as I was.

My body groaned in protest when I turned over to face him; legs sore and hands aching. Ivar was still pulling himself into bed, shirtless and in pajama pants, hair wet and smelling like he was freshly showered. He’d left the bathroom light on, casting a dim orange hue across part of the room. It was just enough to see him.

Before he was even settled beneath the blanket, I was reaching for him, throwing my arm around his waist to snuggle him.

“Is everything okay?”

Ivar nodded with a sigh, pulling at my arms to get me better situated over his body while he leaned back on the pillows. I rested my face on his chest, basking in his warm skin.

“Hvitserk is with Floki; they will see what they can get out of the last one.”

I stifled a chill, but somewhere deep down… I felt a little satisfaction, and hoped there would be something to gain from their hostage.  

“Are you all right, Lis’?” He asked, fingers absentminded in my hair.

“Better now that you’re here,” I admitted tiredly.

He heaved a sigh. “I did not mean to take so long. Nor did I wish to send you off, but if we had been seen…”

“I know.” And anyway, it no longer mattered to me. All that did was that I was back in Ivar’s arms. I squeezed him all the tighter; I needed him now more than ever. In any way possible. Simply feeling him next to me soothed the anxious nerves that felt like pins and needles when your foot fell asleep. But I couldn’t keep quiet either. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Harald and Halfdan. I thought I might’ve been protecting you. But after tonight, I’m not so sure…”

Ivar became tense at once; hands clenched around my arms. “There is no need for apology. The result would have been the same regardless of what you might have done. Something tells me Harald had this planned for some time.”

“I was too harsh on you,” he then added quietly. “I have _been_ too harsh on you, expecting so much. When I know I’m – I am not the easiest -” he huffed at himself before sucking on his teeth. “You do not need to protect me, Lisbet. I should simply like us to be honest with each other.”

My stomach suddenly lurched and even through my tiredness, my eyes widened. There it was – creeping up on us in the middle of the night. The guilt I was carrying for keeping something so important, so personal from him. I couldn’t hold onto it any longer…

Begrudgingly, I withdrew from his arms and forced myself to sit up facing him, body weary all the same. Ivar’s eyes followed my movements, brows knit together and pouting in confusion. I felt sick just at the sight of him, hands still floating in the air where my body had just been… Looking so vulnerable, especially given his undress. No more grime and blood, just exertion and a light sheen on his skin. There was nothing more that I wanted than to just lay back down and fall asleep with him wrapped around me.

“I have to tell you something.”

A strange look crossed his eyes. Most likely due to my brevity – what could’ve possibly been as serious as my withholding of Harald and Halfdan’s visit? And slowly the strangeness passed, only to be replaced with apprehension as he warily cast his eyes downward, onto my stomach.

I might’ve laughed if the circumstances were any different. “I’m not pregnant.”

Ivar became defensive, quickly shaking his head. “I wasn’t – that was not -” He abruptly closed his mouth, and if it wasn’t for the darkness in the room, I was certain he would’ve been blushing. He sat up straight anyway, gesturing for me to continue.

“I didn’t tell you everything when my father came to see me. When I said he found out about us.” I paused there; I hadn’t yet rehearsed how I’d tell Ivar about the file. My throat was drying up while my mouth bobbed opened and closed, trying to find the words. “He tried convincing me to end things with you, not see you anymore.”

“Lisbet, I told you that does not bother me,” Ivar insisted.

“He brought me to his office that day,” I went on, ignoring him. The more interruptions there were, the more difficult it was to get this off of my chest. “I don’t know how to say this… You already know he’s an Attorney, and his firm has been invested in your family’s business for some time now. They’ve been holding this file -”

“What sort of file?” Ivar asked, voice laden with utter seriousness. I didn’t want to, but I made myself raise my eyes to meet his. Any notion of emotion or ease had fallen completely from his face. I’d seen this expression often – _hated_ that it was directed at me.

“A case file… On you.” I gulped hard at the way my heart fluttered. Ivar leaned in with his forehead tilted toward me; regardless of his intent, it was intimidating. “Father made me go through it – the whole thing. He said if I read it, I’d want nothing to do with you.”

“What was in the file, Lisbet?” he asked sharply. It was almost impossible not to flinch.

I shrugged helplessly, wringing my hands together above my lap. “Your life… A track record, I suppose. It had – it had everything from your report cards to your criminal record. Some loose ends they were trying to connect, trying to get evidence to your involvement in -”

“ _What - else_?” he slowly hissed. I’d hardly noticed he’d been crouching further toward me until I paused to catch my breath. I looked down at the small distance between us; saw that his hands were clenched around the blanket.

“Your time in an institution,” I whispered. “When you were eleven.” I felt nauseous as soon as the words left me. And Ivar…

It seemed as if his strength had been literally stripped from him. His shoulders slumped and in my peripherals, I could see his hands unclench. I was grateful it was so dark; this stark change in him, the way his face fell slack and he began to blink rapidly was already too much to witness.

“After you – that incident with the – with the -” My stammering was only making matters worse, I could tell. Like he’d done something so horrid, I couldn’t even bear to say it aloud. Ivar sniffed and turned away from me, and under the dim light I could catch his eyes darting back and forth.

“Ivar -” I reached for his arm and he flinched away from me… It felt as if I’d been struck. Tears welled in my eyes as he tossed the blankets aside and moved further away, pushing himself across the bed.

“Ivar, please,” I begged. “I know I betrayed your trust, but Father _made_ me – I tried to refuse, but he made me!”

He made it to the end of the bed in a hurry, pivoted his legs over the edge.

“He thought if I knew those things about you, that I’d leave you!” He reached for his crutches, had one in his hand – “He was wrong, Ivar!”

He went rigid in an instant, freezing with one crutch still in his grip. Though he was quiet, I could tell from the heave in his shoulders how upset he was. I hastily wiped my eyes, clearing my throat in effort to keep from sounding like a blubbering mess.

“He was _wrong_ ,” I said again, stronger this time.

If not for the rain, the silence would’ve roared against my eardrums. I stared at Ivar’s back – _willing_ him to say something. _Anything_. Even if it was to express his anger at my betrayal. Yell at me for breaking his trust.

“All this time… and you knew?” he said softly. His long, wet hair brushed over his bare shoulders as he slightly turned his head. “All of those things I have done…”

“Yes.” I nodded at his backside, preparing myself to accept whatever hurt I’d caused him.

Ivar opened his mouth to speak; I could hear him hesitating. Starting and stopping again before continuing. “And yet you are still here. Even after tonight.”

“ _Yes_ ,” I insisted, not understanding what he was suggesting. “Ivar, I had only wished you would tell me those things on your _own_. That you would trust me enough to.”

Eventually, he dropped the crutch; twisted around so I could finally see his face, and it was almost unrecognizable. Fear and sadness written so plainly across it.

“You are either stupid,” he suggested, voice thick. “Or very cruel, Lisbet.”

Without hesitation, I hurried toward him, making my way across the bed until I could be at his side. His head tilted back as he appraised me, seeming like it was _him_ preparing for the worst instead of me. Once I knew he wouldn’t pull back, I cupped my hands around his jaw, keeping him close.

“We both know I’m not stupid.”

Ivar coughed out a strained laugh, struggling to hold eye contact. He gulped before speaking again.

“That is why I am afraid.”

I swallowed down a sob, staggered so deeply at his palpable vulnerability. It practically _reeked_ off of him. I offered the most reassuring smile I could muster and gently covered his lips with mine. I breathed in deep, eyes clenched shut, just holding us together so I could revel in it. Still amazed that Ivar could continue to have these moments where he thought I might leave him. Believe it so strongly that he’d physically tear himself from me.

A shaky sigh later, and Ivar’s hands were clutching me, rubbing warmly over my ribcage, finally moving his lips against mine. Our mouths opened and he whimpered, then tilted his head and kissed me with more fervor. I sensed him starting to relax as we sat there, tight in our embrace, simply moving our lips slowly against each other’s. Reclaiming what we thought we might’ve lost through gentle touches alone.

It didn’t take long for us to grow heated. For me to wrap my arms around Ivar’s neck, curl my fingers into his wet hair. Or for Ivar to palm at my thighs, pull them apart so he could wrap them around his waist instead. My breath hitched when he turned us over, managed to haul us both across the bed so he could lay on top of me. Blanket me with his torso.

His heaviness felt euphoric, reassuring. Left my head spinning in a daze while we gasped and breathed into each other’s mouths, tongues meeting somewhere in between. Only to endure clashing teeth as our movements became more frantic.

I couldn’t say how long this lasted when all else disappeared save Ivar and the urgency we fulfilled with one another. We petted and grinded until we were both hot to the touch. The tears dried on my cheeks; were kissed from my neck by Ivar’s soft lips. I felt undeniably whole. My body curled around Ivar, heart thudding in my chest.

When we finally cracked, giving into exhaustion, we were still so needy that we refused to disentangle. We became a heap of limbs, with Ivar’s face tucked into my neck and my cheek burrowed against his hair. I never wanted to let him go, even when our touches grew weaker the further we drifted toward sleep. There was a seizing grasp around my heart as strong as our hold, and I knew at once what it had to be. What this was I felt between us…

 

Waking up from what felt like another too few bout of hours later, the first thing I realized was that I had done it of my own accord – not because of my alarm. I turned over with a start – briefly noticed Ivar was missing – only to see that it was half passed eleven. I reached for my phone, giving myself a head rush when I sat up to unlock it… And found my alarm had been turned off.

Initially, I wanted to be mad. I could feel the inner perfectionist that knew there were upcoming exams to cram for and that we needed all the time we could get –

But _fuck_ , as I slumped into the pillows, I became painfully aware of the soreness in my limbs. That I’d still not gotten enough sleep. That my head had an uneasiness from a combination of too much vodka and stress. And goddammit, were the emotions still running high. With every second I was awake, I could feel the trauma of being attacked seeping back inside of me. The tension between Ivar and I – and reaching our reconciliation.

Perhaps it was necessary to take the day off. The thought of having to be driven back to campus, dressing in uniform, trudging around with heavy textbooks for the rest of the day was the _least_ appealing it had ever been. Not to mention, being separated from Ivar so soon after all that occurred filled me with unbearable anxiety. I could already feel myself yearning for him, craving his protection.  

I tossed and turned for a short time before dragging myself out of bed, wanting to find both coffee and my boyfriend.

There was conversation in the kitchen as I approached; reverberating male voices that were loud enough to be audible.

“We aren’t _suspicious_ ,” I could hear Ubbe say softly. “More – curious as to what was so important that you couldn’t be with us last night.”

“And I _told you_ , it is none of your business,” Sigurd argued. “It is not always my responsibility to fight your battles for you.”

I easily recognized Ivar’s dry laughter. “I disagree, Ubbe – I think I _am_ suspicious.”

Bickering erupted until Ubbe’s voice cut clearly across the room. “ _Enough_.” If I hadn’t been so tired, perhaps I would’ve felt slightly more uncomfortable entering the kitchen. All of the brothers were present, sat at the kitchen table eating, save for Ubbe who was dressed for work in a grey suit. He was leaning back against the countertop, stationed by the coffeepot.

“ _No_ ,” Ivar snapped. I snuck by the boys, slinking toward Ubbe to get a fresh mug and reach behind him for the pot. “Sigurd has never taken initiative where the business is concerned. He does not want to get his _hands dirty_ ,” he sneered. “This has been a constant issue with you – never carrying your load.”

“Ivar,” Ubbe tried to intervene. But Ivar refused to back down.

“Even when it came to avenging Father. You could barely keep your food in your belly!”

“Not everyone has to get off on it like you do, Ivar,” Sigurd retorted.

“And now you don’t even care to protect this family. There was a blatant attack on us last night and -”

“Lisbet is _not_ my family,” Sigurd grit out. There was a stifled pause as I poured my coffee. Deeply inhaled its scent. After being shot at for the first time in my life, it was apparently even easier to not react to Sigurd’s goading. “It is bad enough that we even share the same birthmother, Boneless. Forgive me for not prioritizing your occupational hazards -”

“You are a _coward_ ,” Ivar said slowly.

“What we have to focus on now -” Ubbe spoke up again, sounding exasperated. “- is Harald and Halfdan. What do we _all_ think we should do?”

I finally turned around, glancing about the tension-filled room. All but Sigurd looked haggard. Hvitserk was still in his clothes from last night, the same blouse and trousers, now wrinkled instead of freshly pressed. Then my eyes crossed paths with Ivar’s and I felt my stomach fill with butterflies. It was like something… had shifted between us. Something I couldn’t quite point a finger on, but could certainly feel.

There was an empty seat next to him and I let my feet shuffle toward it, feeling calmer the closer I got to him, even amid the boys’ arguing.

Ivar looked good enough to snuggle, with his hair still slightly ruffled and tucked behind his ears as he chewed around a mouthful of ham and toast. He was clad in grey sweatpants and a matching baggy sweatshirt that hung loosely over his shoulders. I noticed he was sitting in his wheelchair as I checked him out… Of course – if I was sore, I couldn’t imagine how badly his legs must’ve ached. I leaned into him upon sitting, gently setting my hand on his thigh, and found more relief when he accepted my approach for a kiss.

“Hvitserk, was there at least anything useful you could find out?” Ubbe pried. Meanwhile, my eyelids fluttered as Ivar and I parted. I was happy to see that regardless of how irritated he was, he still looked down on me now with a lightness in his eyes. As if he was void of thought for just those few seconds our lips touched.

“Won’t talk,” Hvitserk mumbled around his food. “And that is not to say we haven’t tried, either. _Thoroughly_ … Harald has his men well trained, for sure.”

Ubbe swirled his coffee around, bitterly sucking his teeth. “Even more problematic.”

Sigurd scoffed loudly, reining back Ivar’s attention. “If you had just given him what he wanted, none of this would have happened.”

“You want to join rank with Harald and wonder why we are upset to have found you missing,” Ubbe drawled dryly. He pushed himself off of the counter and started to pace back and forth beside the table.

Sigurd rolled his eyes. “It is not my fault I’m the only one thinking of the profit from his connections. We have to deal with the public all of the time – allowing them control of some ports, some men… Perhaps it will – lighten the burden for the rest of us.”

Ivar extended his arm, palm of his hand facing up. “See?”

Ubbe ignored him. “And risk dismantling our Empire.”

“Well – you trust our cripple brother so much, Ubbe,” Sigurd sang. “I’m certain he can handle it. He is Boss after all… Aren’t you, Boneless?”

One wouldn’t have to look at Ivar to know the expression on his face. But Hvitserk was laughing to himself, shaking his head. “Next thing you will want is an alliance with Lagertha as well, huh?”

Sigurd merely shrugged. “If she had the right qualifications – why not?”

Everyone froze, myself included, all eyes glued to Sigurd. You could hear a fucking pin drop, the room fell so silent.

“Lagertha killed our mother,” Ivar said slowly. Voice dripping with acid.

“ _Your_ mother,” Sigurd bit back. “She was not the same to me.”

Ivar leaned back in his chair, sizing Sigurd up with a look of disgust. Nostrils flared and lips curled in a snarl as he shook his head. “And what kind of son does that make you, huh?”

For the first time throughout the confrontation, Sigurd actually appeared upset by his words, rather than petty and filled with snark. “You and I remember her very differently, Ivar…”

“There he goes again,” Ivar tutted. “Feeling _so sorry_ for himself.”

There was another uncomfortable moment of silence. Sigurd was evidently at a loss for words and surprisingly said no more. Ivar glared at him for a long time; I glanced up at him nervously, startled at the level of hatred I could see drifting from his beautiful blue eyes. His face tensed as he clenched his jaw, but then he cleared his throat. Ready to move on.

“In any case…” he said. “I have decided to agree to Harald’s partnership.”

The boys all exclaimed in unison, Sigurd’s voice being the loudest. “ _Excuse me_?”

My own head whipped around to look at him, eyebrows raised to my hairline in astonishment. _How_ …? After all of this. After being attacked – and who knew how far they would’ve gone? And after I’d kept a secret from him for so long in attempt to protect him – only to see him walk into their hands now!

“Ivar…” Ubbe seemed as confused as ever, head cocked to the side. “You cannot possibly have thought this through.”

“I have,” Ivar said smoothly. He hunched to take a sip of his coffee before wiping his mouth with a napkin. Mob Boss persona sliding right back in its place. “They have made it very clear what means they are willing to go to in order to get what they want.”

“I understand that, but Ivar – he will bring trouble with him wherever he goes,” Ubbe argued. “You are _this_ close to becoming President – and it won’t be long before I am running a campaign -”

“We cannot afford a war right now,” Ivar replied, just as calmly. “I will not risk lives. Not while Lagertha is still among us. Not with my potential Presidency. And certainly not with your future campaign, Ubbe.”

Ubbe sputtered, Sigurd looked oddly smug, and Hvitserk appeared skeptical. “If they are to establish themselves here now,” he said. “It’ll make it more difficult to remove them later when Lagertha and Björn are taken care of.”

Ivar had evidently thought of that, too. “They will only have the illusion of power. They need our ports, so they will use our men – Floki’s men; those we can trust. _Our_ distribution routes. It will appease them for a time,” he shrugged. “Meanwhile they will still report to us. It will be easier to keep an eye on them that way.”

They all looked around at each other in contemplation. Even I had to admit that it sounded slightly better when he put it that way, but still… It would be too good to be true.

“How do you know Harald will even agree to that?” Hvitserk finally asked. “Last night, all he was prepared to offer was a ten percent cut. I mean – you’re talking about controlling his entire operation.”

“ _We_ hold the power here,” Ivar reaffirmed. Jabbed his index finger on the table to emphasize his point. “If they want any trade in Denmark, they have no choice but to go through us.”

“I thought we were better than drug peddlers, Ivar,” Ubbe lectured, pacing again. One hand on his hip as he pointed a scornful gaze at his youngest brother. “This is exactly the type of thing that Father ought to have avoided.”

“We could have been killed last night,” Ivar snapped. The reminder shook me. “They will not stop unless we cede. And I refuse to lose anyone over Harald’s _strife_.”

Hvitserk was the first one to speak. “Agreed.”

Sigurd said – “You know what my answer is.”

Ubbe ran his hands over his face; clearly frustrated, perhaps even more so that he actually found the plan to make the slightest bit of sense.

“Agreed, _but_ -” he quickly followed up with, pointing an almost parental finger at Ivar. “- As soon as we get rid of Lagertha -”

Ivar offered a single nod. “We _renegotiate_ with Harald and his brother.”

Eventually, Ubbe relented. “Fine.” He retrieved his suit jacket from behind one of the chairs, buttoned it up with more zeal than was required. “We will set up a meet for next week. I have to get back to work.” He gestured at Sigurd. “And you have to get back to school. Let’s go.”

Hvitserk also rose to leave. “I’ll go back to Floki’s. See if he’s managed to get anything out of the guy yet.”

Ivar and I were quickly left alone. I had since stiffened; retrieved my hand from Ivar’s lap. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, completely unsure of how to react to all of this. On the one hand, Ivar had made a point that couldn’t be ignored. That without an alliance with Harald, they were divided between he and Lagertha. It left them more open to risk. On the other, it was… _Harald and Halfdan_. A union I was certain could never be civil.

“I take it you do not approve,” Ivar said after a while. “Perhaps you are thinking… your lunatic, crippled boyfriend is not capable of keeping them in line, hm?”

I had half a mind to slap him; glared at him to find him poking his food uselessly with his knife. Of course, I should’ve expected some sort of lashing out because of what I revealed to know about him. But now was not the time for passive aggression.

“You know that’s not true, Ivar,” I snapped. Ivar sighed and looked apologetic at me. His eyes were dejected in a way that took me aback. “What Sigurd said -” He shook his head before I could go any further. I hadn’t realized just how under his skin his brother had gotten. How much his words truly upset him. I reached over and took his hand in mine; I couldn’t stand even one more thing getting between us.

“I’m not doubting you… But last night I was pulled from a car and had a gun held to my fucking head. They tried to kill us, Ivar.” I leaned in closer to him; just mentioning it again put the vivid images back into my mind. The wet concrete, the blood, the feel of cool steel on my skin. A tremble coursed through me and I squeezed his hand all the tighter. “I’m scared.”

Ivar immediately softened; ran his other arm over my shoulder to pull me close. His fingers wound into my hair and he kept me in place, intensely gazing at me from under his heavy brow.

“I promise you they will _not_ go unpunished,” he told me, voice steady. He moved even closer, clutching to him until our lips nearly brushed as he spoke. “I will _kill them both_ for what they have done to you. I swear it, Lisbet.”

I nodded, truly believing his words. And I wanted it; I wanted them to feel as scared as I was. I _wanted_ Ivar to kill them.

I purposefully pressed my lips more firmly to his; a chaste kiss, murmuring his name.

“Tell me,” he urged ernestly.

It was small encouragement for something I hardly knew how to request. Not ever so bluntly, anyway. And yet, as always, he could sense I was troubled. His eyes danced over my face while he tried to decipher it.

“They hurt me, Ivar, I need -” I swallowed hard, trying not to stammer. “I need you… I need you to fix it. I… I only want _your_ pain.”

My heartrate climbed; I was almost self-conscious, hoping I’d conveyed myself clearly. But I was close enough to see Ivar’s pupils dilate and he closed our distance, kissing me soundly. “Go back to bed. I will be right behind you.”

 

We resumed in his bed exactly where we left off in the wee hours of that morning, except this time, we weren’t ridden with exhaustion and desperate for sleep. This time, our limbs quickly tangled while Ivar ground me into the mattress, smothering me beneath him to the point it was hard to breathe. He set a pressure on my lungs that made me rasp with a sweet hiss.

I couldn’t believe how pliant he was to my needy hands. He’d usually have assumed control by now, telling me what to do and how to do it. And I never minded, but in the switch of vulnerability, it was an entirely new type of nurture from him that I found intoxicating. While he devoured my mouth with his, my hands snuck up inside his sweatshirt. I sighed against his lips at his soft skin; smooth and heated, with bulging muscle that contracted with each of his movements. I could only tear one hand away to shove my fingers through his hair.

We both gasped for air when we parted, Ivar licking his swollen lips, hovering above my face. He looked down at me with appraisal, and I could tell he was mentally sorting out how far I’d want him to go if I wanted to feel pain. Ivar was always consistent in making sure I was consenting in his desires. And I trusted his judgement in using my body. A now infallible trust when he’d killed for me not twenty-four hours ago.

Proving as such, he kept things moving. Removed my hands from him to take my wrists in one grip and pin them down above my head. It sent a wave of calm through my body, made it easier to breathe even though my heart raced. My lashes fluttered when he squeezed, grinding my bones together in his clutch.

Ivar nuzzled my cheek as he turned me over; curled around my backside, and kept his mouth attentive beneath my ear. Straight away, I could feel the beginnings of his erection nestled snugly against my ass. I wiggled just to get closer to him, and my breath hitched as he rolled his pelvis against me.

His teeth latched into my neck. Breath hot, sending a chill down my spine as he mouthed me there.

“What do you need of me, Lisbet?” he husked.

I began to speak – instead crooned when his hand slid beneath my shirt. _His_ shirt. So baggy over my form that he ruffled it around my breasts to keep it out of his way. His large, calloused palm slid back and forth heavily over my stomach, working its way up my abdomen in heavy circles. I started writhing with his motions, eager for more of his touch.

“Tell me, Lis’,” he murmured before sucking my earlobe between his lips. And I was finding myself speechless, not used to giving him direction. I was amid racking my brain when Ivar sharply twisted my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I hissed, arching my back under his hand when he melded his grip around my breast. But the sting felt good, and my mouth watered at the thought of more of it.

“Spank me,” I said quickly, eyes clenched shut. “I want you to spank me.”

A noise rumbled through Ivar’s chest and he thrust against me once more before slinking around to look at my face. My breath was escaping in short huffs as I met his eyes, shadowed under the current of his thick locks.

He released my breast and latched onto my chin. Let his thumb stroke my bottom lip, tugging ever so slightly.

“You’ve not been a bad girl,” he observed, like a Professor talking to his student.

“I know,” I said, pressing a small kiss to the pad of his thumb. “I just want it.”

I watched his eyes light up, and he nodded, corners of his lips curling upward. He offered me an abrupt kiss to my lips before releasing my hands. “In that case… I have bought something for you.”

For only a short few seconds, Ivar parted from me to shift across the bed and open a drawer in his nightstand. But even still, I could feel the anxious nerves crawling right back. I shivered from his distance. There was a clunking sound as he retrieved whatever it was he sought, then he climbed back to me, adorning a new, mischievous grin.

I couldn’t help but snort when he held up a pair of cuffs in my face. Ivar looked smug… And perhaps resembling a child in a candy store; jaw rolling as he dangled them from his long fingers.

Up until now, he’d only ever used his hands to restrain me, but the cuffs were tantalizing. Made of thick black leather, and what looked like faux fur lining the insides. Silver buckles were the fasteners, and there was a slim, chain link rope that not only linked them together, but had a long lead that could clamp around a base. They were… surprisingly pretty. And I melted a little at Ivar being so thoughtful of me.

“Put them on me,” I ushered, holding my hands up to him. And there it was again – that sense of calm and control seeping back from my submission to Ivar.

He granted me another rewarding kiss, lips soft ahead the bite of his teeth on my bottom one. My eyes were rolling as he gently fastened the cuffs around my wrists. They were as soft as they looked. Firm. Still comfortable even as I urged him to make them as tight as possible, enjoying the slight pinch on my skin.

“Thank you…” I all but moaned. Drinking in the sight of Ivar above me, strapping me in. It was like that moment when you trusted an attendant to fasten you into a rollercoaster – the thrill of handing over your will. But then – “You won’t take off my shirt?”

Ivar’s smile was sultry before he nuzzled his nose against the tip of mine. “I like you in my clothes…”

To prove his point, he tucked the thin cotton under my armpits to keep my breasts free. I wailed as he sunk his teeth into one of them, tugging at my nipple. He suckled briefly before releasing it with a wet-sounding _pop_.

He wasted no more time in shifting toward the headboard, arm reaching between the bedframe and the mattress to hook the chain onto the solid wood. He gave it a hard, experimental tug to make sure it held, and groaned upon my sturdy restraint. There was something about the sight of a determined Ivar pulling on a chain that had my mouth go dry…

His cheeks were already flushed when he came back to hover over my face. By instinct, I reached for him, only to whimper at my constraints. I spared a glance at my cuffed hands and felt weak from the strong wave of arousal at how dainty they appeared.

My vision spun as Ivar flipped me onto my stomach. I could already feel myself aching for him, for the relief, more so as he pulled my pants down and tucked the waistband just below the swell of my ass. He made himself comfortable beside me, dragged his right hand down my spine before coaxing it through the cleft of my asscheeks.

“How many, Lisbet?” he inquired, giving me a playful swat. But then he hummed and answered his own question. “I will give you eight.”

I squirmed against the mattress, nodding my approval. Frankly, any number would’ve seemed enticing at this point – ass in the air, and eager as I was.

“You want this?” he graveled one last time. My voice had barely affirmed when the first strike came down and across my right asscheek with a loud _smack_.

I squealed, body curling in on itself. By instinct, my hands tried to retract, and I could only hiss at the resistance from the cuffs.

The next one was just as hard. Ivar brought his hand down at a swift arc, palm connecting at my flesh with a _clap_ that echoed the room.

“ _Fuck!_ ” I shouted before gritting my teeth together.

“Is this too hard for you?” Ivar prodded. His voice was thick and heavy, and if I could’ve, I would’ve looked upon his face, wishing to see what kind of effect this was having on him. If it was as palpable as it already felt, coursing through my limbs.

 _Smack_.

I squealed again, nearly flailing at this point. “ _No_ – not too hard,” I whined back. In fact, it was extra satisfying he wasn’t taking it easy on me. The pain already burned my backside, and was taking place of the kind that ached through my bones from being thrown around the night before. As tremors wracked through my limbs, all I could see was Ivar behind my eyelids. Ivar having power over me. Ivar protecting me. Destroying those who dared to hurt us.

“Good,” he breathed somewhere behind me. “I want to _hear_ that voice.”

I screamed at the next slap; the sting was now bringing tears to my eyes, yet I could only feel myself growing wetter for Ivar. _Yearning_ for him. There was a throbbing in my pussy equal to the pain that singed my rear. Had me rubbing my thighs together in seek of relief, only to receive another smack while Ivar murmured words of praise.

“Is this what you needed?” he asked. His free hand raked through my hair before situating a grip over the back of my neck, pinning me down. “My good girl?”

“Yes,” my voice croaked. “ _Please_.”

Two spanks back to back sent the few tears I had to trickle down my cheeks – my voice shrill, echoing around Ivar’s bedroom, drowning out whatever he was saying. The burning in my skin was just below tolerable; the shaking in my limbs completely uncontrollable to the point where even my restraints were tinkling with my jerking.

One last spanking had me sobbing loudly. Ivar crooned with approval and soothed his palm over my ass, rubbing softly, easing out the sting of his hand even though I knew it’d be long before the burning sensation wore off. I basked in it; quietly hoped his marks would bruise.

“Such a good girl…” he praised me again. I was sure to be beaming just as I would from receiving good marks on an exam. He turned me over only to purse his lips, blue eyes blown with lust and cheeks tinted with a fresh pink. He immediately buried me under his weight again, hands sliding over my hips to squeeze my ass tightly in both grips. “My good girl. So beautiful.”

His possessiveness sent a thrill through me and I craved more of it. Thrust my pelvis up into his in a wanton fashion, in seek of the solid cock I could feel bulging through his sweatpants.

“You needy thing,” he playfully chastised, but all the same, he ground his hips into mine with such sudden fierceness, I felt I might come on the spot then and there. His expression turned serious, brows furrowing at the friction, and he did it again, starting a slow rhythm of dry humping me.

He mashed his lips onto mine with a frustrated growl. “I am going to fuck you with my mouth,” he told me between kisses. “Then I want to feel you come - when I am deep inside of you.”

I nodded vigorously, shamelessly. Muttering yes and please over and over against his lips.

He finally forced us apart and quickly shifted down over my body, eventually kissing and tonguing over my stomach, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His tongue delved into my navel as he resumed hold around the waistband of the pajamas, still somewhat nestled under my ass. With the pants much too big for me, Ivar easily tore them down my legs and tossed them to the floor, mouth keeping attentive to my belly.

The anticipation was killing me, arousal now becoming something unbearable. And then - he stopped moving.

I looked down in confusion – Ivar stared at my thighs, having noticed the array of the slashes in my skin that all of the shattered glass had left behind. They’d since scabbed over, hardly caused discomfort, but the dark reddish mars did appear harsh in their display.

“It’s nothing,” I assured him.

But it apparently wasn’t nothing to Ivar. Anger flitted over his features – almost replacing his euphoria – nostrils flaring as his eyes danced over my legs. I tried jostling him with a knee to make him move on, but instead, his arms wrapped tightly around my limbs. And just when I thought he might have an outburst, he simply pressed his mouth to the closest scab.

I had to choke down a sob, my chest feeling very heavy, like a knot was being twisted inside of it. Without fuss, Ivar gently melded his lips over any scratch he could reach, turning my legs this way and that to make certain he didn’t miss one. The affection was enough to make me want to cry.

Ivar’s ire was as alluring as it was frightening when he looked up at me, eyes bright and glaring.

“No one will ever harm you again,” he uttered through gritted teeth.

I gulped, at a loss for words, and he only looked away to place one more kiss on my scraped knee while caressing my thighs with his hands.

He proceeded to spread my legs apart so he could lay between them. My heart was racing, chest heaving. It was as if we were breaching a new type of intimacy that we hadn’t quite practiced before. I was malleable as putty, jolting when Ivar latched onto my hipbones to pull himself closer to my cunt. His hands stayed anchored, mouth moving toward me with torturous anticipation.

And just as he reached me – so close I could feel his breath fan against my wet lips – he glanced up at me once more. The menace was still in there, lingering behind his eyes, but there was an unfamiliar weight to his stare. Something I couldn’t recognize, but regardless, made my skin tingle.

“You belong to _me_ ,” Ivar declared.

I couldn’t stop my sob this time, and tears did leak from the corners of my eyes. It quickly became difficult to breathe, and Ivar was even faster at setting his mouth on me. Tongue rapidly dragging through my slit, lips nuzzling into mine with a loud growl. My whole body jerked, every part of it needing to close around him. I practically howled while he laved aggressively – came in an instant when the tip of his tongue twirled around my clit.

My voice screeched through my throat, lower half flailing so violently that Ivar had to pin me down as he continued. I pulled sharply against my restraints and it only elongated the ride of my orgasm; forced my hips to gyrate with Ivar’s lascivious tongue.

He pulled away before I could strangle him with my thighs, but merely replaced his mouth with the pads of his fingers. Stroking me back and forth. He had another smug smirk on his face.

“I think,” he started, catching his breath. “That is the fastest I have ever made you come.”

I would’ve rolled my eyes if I had the strength. All I could do was pant at him.

Keeping his fingers on me, he set an elbow above my shoulder so he could perch from atop. His eyes were wild; a thin rim of ice blue bordering his enlarged pupils.

“But I did mention that I must feel you come when I am inside you,” he murmured with a kiss. I whimpered as he penetrated me with his thick fingers. He swiftly began to pump them in and out, thumb batting against my sensitive clit. “You owe me.”

I nodded despite myself, fingers curling fruitlessly in effort to grab him.

“Is that what you want, Lis’?” he asked rhetorically, dropping the timbre of his voice to hiss in my ear. “You want to feel me inside you, huh?”

“ _Mmhm_ ,” was all I could muster.

I whined when he abruptly withdrew his fingers, desperately wanting to usher him back inside.

“That is not good enough, Lisbet,” he scolded. He drove his hips roughly into mine, showing me how hard he was. So hard and thick. “Is this what you want? You want my cock?”

He knew how I responded to him talking like this, snapping in my ear. Trying to rile me up again so I would be good and come for him. And it was working. My legs practically wrapped around him of their own accord, binding him to me seamlessly.

“Tell me, you little _slut_ ,” Ivar sneered, clenching painfully onto my jaw. “Tell me you want me.”

“ _Please_ ,” I whispered. “Please, please, please.”

I gasped when he smacked my face, forcing me to focus. My eyes bulged from their sockets as I l looked up at him, still grateful for his discipline. He raised his brows expectantly, cock still persistent against my crotch as he kept pushing harder into me. “Use your words, Lisbet.”

They bubbled out of me without further ado. “Please, Ivar, fuck me, _please_ ,” I begged. Not even caring how jumbled my words were. “I want you, Ivar, I _need_ you inside me. I want you more than -”

His chest rumbled over mine and _finally_ he granted me leave. Moved one hand to shove his sweatpants down his legs. There was little wiggle room, my legs clung to him so snugly. But he bared his teeth as he took hold of his cock and aimed, jaw unhinging when he plunged deeply into my cunt. I screamed at his girth, didn’t get any quieter as Ivar started to plow into me over and over with bruising strength.

Both of his forearms were back above my shoulders, holding himself up with leverage to jab his hips against mine with abandon.

This was what I needed. Ivar consuming me in every way possible – taking complete ownership of my body. All else near faded from my senses. Taking in nothing but the feel of Ivar’s weight and the heat that poured off of him. His thick cock filling me like a piston. And it all felt so good, my eyes were careening into the back of my skull. Pressure grew in my groin, spreading to my thighs and my stomach as he fucked me harder and harder.

He set his forehead on mine, meshing together our sweaty skin. His long hair tickled my cheeks, and I gaped at him, seeing nothing else but his wide eyes.

“You are mine,” he managed to gravel at me. “Tell me – you are mine.”

“I’m yours,” I said easily. No hesitation at all, lying there at his disposal as I was. It’d never felt more true.

Ivar clenched his eyes shut, slowed his thrusts to something more controlled. Long and hard, languidly pulling out before gliding back in with a sharp snap of the hips. I came again suddenly – hips bucking, mouth falling open with a noiseless screech. Ivar watched me closely, then sucked around his bottom lip before spitting into my mouth.

He might’ve gotten a bigger reaction if I wasn’t mid-orgasm, but now I merely swallowed around it and sobbed through my teeth, and Ivar followed me with a shout. Spilled his load inside of me with a loud shout tearing through his lungs. He all but collapsed on me right after, only making an effort to keep from putting too much pressure on my shoulders.

I barely had the strength to do anything, but I still gave him a nudge. “Take off your clothes, Ivar.” I wanted to feel him naked, his skin on mine. That, and he was bound to be covered in sweat.

Ivar grunted as he raised his head. “Let me undo these first.”

Amid the excitement, I hadn’t realized just how sore my hands had been until he said so. I caught my breath while he unbuckled the cuffs, and my arms went slack over a pillow. Too stiff to move.

“Did you like these?” he asked, voice hoarse from exertion. Sounding like he did last night all over again.

I hummed in approval, nodding my head as he gently maneuvered my arms between our chests. Ivar licked his lip in concentration, kneading the tips of his fingers into my joints. I suddenly had a thought –

“The spit?”

Ivar huffed. “I should have asked. I apologize.”

I lay there stunned for a second. It was the first time Ivar ever apologized to me. For _anything_. His eyes stayed trained on his ministrations, massaging my hands, encouraging their circulation.

“It was fine,” I reassured him, albeit a little strange. “I was just curious… as to why…?” My own voice was starting to croak and waiver.

Ivar stayed quiet, as if it was so spur of the moment for him as well that he didn’t quite understand it. His hands moved past my wrists to my forearms, caring for them next.

“When you said you were mine… I had to see if there was one more way you would take me.”

I was so taken aback by the honesty in his explanation, that I took hold of his sweatshirt and kissed him firmly. Reaffirming that, yes, I would take him that way. I knew in my heart I would take him in _any_ way – whatever he would give me.

He stayed so hellbent on my arms that I had to give him another nudge. Nuzzled my lips across his cheekbone till whispering in his ear – “Your clothes, Ivar. I want you naked.”

As I drew back, I noticed he was blushing. It was adorable. Such a change in demeanor from how we’d been entangled not ten minutes prior. He tugged off his sweatshirt and I groaned at the sight of his torso and arms, flushed and layered with a dewy sweat.

There was a little reluctance in removing his pants, an insecurity we were still working on, even if his ass was showing and his cock was softening before my eyes. So, I scooted down and buried my face against his abdomen as I started pulling at his sweatpants, and together we shuffled them off. Leaving them forgotten at the foot of the bed.

“Are your legs sore?” I asked as I resituated. Our heads rested on a pillow, faces few centimeters apart.

“Yes.”

“Will you see Nikolaj?” I prodded some more.

“Not today. I will stay with you.”

I didn’t want to openly admit how happy that made me feel. I couldn’t bear to be apart from him. Not just yet.

We quietly gazed at each other for a while, hands still touching, petting, soothing aching muscles. I was entirely lost in Ivar’s eyes, unsure of how it was humanly possible to feel so content after such a traumatizing incident. But I suppose that’s how things would always be with Ivar.

And how could it be different? I suddenly found myself pondering how people could feel true love without all of this – the intensity, the pain, only to experience the reward of something so real. So tangible. Yes, I did know what this was - this grip on my heart... And I knew I would never feel love like this with anyone else, ever again.

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End file.
